Ardeth's Quest: The Liberation of London
by ucferrarisgirl
Summary: Book One (SSS), Book Two (The Liberation of London) & Epilogue plus historical note. Completed Aug 1
1. Default Chapter

BOOK ONE: Shifting Saharan Sands   
  
  
PROLOGUE  
What is it, little one?   
My good little one,   
My brave little one   
My dear little one   
What is it, little one?   
Be still, I will stroke your fingers   
I kiss the sweat from your brow   
I will stay near you   
You and I belong together   
  
--Tuareg lullaby   
  
  
  
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Near the end of the Age of Gemini, about six thousand five hundred years ago on the grassy, but drying, Giza Plain   
  
Kysen stood on the Giza plain and tears ran down his face as he watched the scenes of the future. The plain on which he was standing was barren and dry as the shore along the Great Green and the plain was dotted with massive triangular shaped stone buildings. The limestone faced buildings then exploded into bits of dust. He had raised his hands to shield his face when the voice spoke.   
  
"I am called Imhotep. If not stopped, these events will occur near the end of the Age of Pisces," a male voice intoned over the sounds of explosions; to Kysen's ears, the explosions were like the sounds of the volcano on the island in the Great Green. "The Dark One shall call to His side a misguided folllower, one who will try to destroy the Ma'at of Egypt. You will need to procreate a son, in whose bloodline will run the strength and courage to oust the Destructor of Ma'at and stop the Pyramids from exploding."   
  
"I have begat only daughters, Imhotep, God of Egypt! Eleven of them!" Kysen cried, holding his arms out.   
  
"And Ma'at will smile upon your daughters, for they will be prosperous in the coming years. You will live long enough to see the son born who will beget the Restorer of Ma'at to Egypt in the Age of Pisces," the male voice told him. "Take a second wife. Priest Tefibi will be told to allow it, but this son of Egypt must be born, and born soon," the God of Egypt's voice told him, fading.   
  
The man looked down at himself. His long hair was more silver than black now. Along the Nile, his eleven daughters laughed and played, the oldest daughters looking after the youngest daughters. .   
  
How he'd wished for a son! During the years in his teens and early twenties, he and his tribe had wandered from the western shores of the land where the Great Green met a large salty ocean. His tribe had headed towards the lands to the east, for an illness had ravaged the lands and Tefibi--a year younger than Kysen and newly appointed Priest-- had declared the western lands unclean.   
  
Few children had been born to the other men in his tribe, for most of the women had died during the pitted scar illness that had struck his tribe when Kysen had been fifteen summers old.   
  
He shook his head and headed down to the Nile to play with his daughters, thinking about the three eligible women with whom he could mate. Abana? No. At seventeen, Abana had her eyes for Yey. Tais was sixteen, and in love with Min. Those two women had not yet married, for Priest Tefibi had ordained they could only marry when the tribe had settled in their new home.   
  
Khuta? She would have been beautiful but a fire that had swept through the savannah had burned half her face into a thick mass of purple scar tissue. Khuta was of marriageable age at sixteen. She was possessed of intensely dark eyes, eyes with depth, and a steely reserve that he'd only seen in the warriors of the nomadic tribes he'd met wandering the grassy savannah. Her countenance was almost as if the fire which had destroyed her beauty had hardened her soul into the soul of a warrior.   
  
"Yes...Khuta," the wind seemed to whisper in his ears and Kysen started. "She has the soul of a warrior and a warrior is what will be needed to oust the Destructor of Ma'at near the end of the Age of Pisces," the wind whispered to Kysen.   
  
  
  
  
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Age of Taurus, about 2630 BC, Djeba, Temple of Nuit, late summer, near dawn   
  
Imhotep came out of his trance and looked around. He was sweating profusely, despite the cooling wind which swept through the open air temple. Entering the Crossroads of Time was strenuous, for the Crossroads was meant only for the recently departed souls who were on their way to be judged against Ma'at.   
  
While in the Crossroads of Time that night in this very temple sixteen years before, Imhotep had helped Ardeth restore Ma'at to Egypt. He'd followed Nuit's command and had managed to gain access to the Crossroads, albeit by ingesting a large amount of the mushroom. Since that day sixteen floodings before, Imhotep had tried every month to gain access again, but thus far he'd failed. Until tonight when he'd been in Djeba again for the first time in sixteen years.   
  
When he'd gained access to the Crossroads earlier in the night, he was stunned again to see his own Pyramid, and the Great Pyramids, exploding just as the Pyramids had exploded in his vision that night sixteen years ago.   
  
But this time, there was no warrior of Egypt return the Ring of Nuit to her Temple and thwart the Destructor of Ma'at. Imhotep had watched the lone silver bird fly around the Pyramids and then had seen a long line of silver birds, so many that they filled the sky and large silver nuggets were dropped from the sky onto the Pyramids, and onto the city that surrounded the Pyramids.   
  
The screams of the newly departed souls rent Imhotep's own soul and the cries of billions more souls pummelled Imhotep's ears and he put his hands up to cover his ears.   
  
When he'd looked up again, he happened to look behind him, and had discovered why the Warrior of Egypt--the Restorer of Ma'at--wasn't in this vision of the future: the man responsible for begetting the progenitor of the Restorer had failed to procreate a son.   
  
Imhotep instantly saw the reason why: the strictures of Kysen's tribe mandated one wife to one man, despite the deaths of most of the women from the pitted scar disease. Most of the young women in Kysen's tribe were his own daughters, and he was forbidden to marry one of his daughters.   
  
Imhotep stretched his soul and had found Priest Tefibi trying to communicate with the Gods. He'd spoken to Priest Tefibi and instructed him to allow Kysen to take a second wife.   
  
"You must dream the future and tell the leader about a dream that this young girl needs to marry Kysen and beget a future warrior," Imhotep had told Priest Tefibi. "Tell your leader that this evening there will be a star that will streak green towards the Great Green," Imhotep said.   
  
"And when the green star streaks, my leader shall believe my dream and allow me to marry Kysen to a second woman even though Kysen has a wife?" Priest Tefibi asked.   
  
"Yes. I can not emphasize how important to Ma'at this future warrior is," Imhotep told the Priest. "His progenitor must be born before the next flooding, or else Ma'at, and Egypt, shall be destroyed," Imhotep told Priest Tefibi, and Imhotep had left Priest Tefibi alone in his temple room, blinking his eyes in wonder and awe at having spoken to a God of Egypt.   
  
Imhotep had then gone to Kysen and had instructed him in what to do regarding his future son.   
  
As he lost his grip on the Crossroads of Time, a fragmented thought from Kysen echoed in the Crossroads: "Khuta?...hardened her soul into the soul of a warrior..."   
  
Imhotep had whispered with the last of his strength: "Yes...Khuta. She has the soul of a warrior and a warrior is what will be needed to oust the Destructor of Ma'at near the end of the Age of Pisces." And Imhotep had seen in the waning light of the Crossroads of Time that Kysen would indeed marry Khuta and beget the progenitor of the Restorer of Ma'at.   
  
Standing up, and stretching out his arms in supplication, Imhotep looked up towards the dark belly of Nuit. Her Daughters were flashing their light at him, and Imhotep smiled as a feeling of rightness--the restoration of Ma'at--settled over his soul.   
  
  
  
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15,000 feet above London, August 24, 1940 (Age of Pisces), near the end of a sunny day   
  
"Ack Ack bearing down on five!" the pilot shouted into the radio.   
  
The pilot, Squadron Leader Michael O'Mara, had been shocked to see a Luftwaffe bomber plane flying near London. Ramsgate, Dover, Portsmouth, Birmingham, the north-east of England and several airfields had seen heavy Luftwaffe activity today.   
  
Although the air battles over Britain had been raging for almost two months, since July 10 when the dogfights started, London had so far been spared the sight of German bomber planes.   
  
Now, for the first time since 1918, when Squadron Leader O'Mara was a toddler of two, the skyline of London was witnessing bomber planes on the horizon.   
  
Michael O'Mara vowed he would do everything he could to prevent London from being bombed. But he realized that might not be possible.   
  
A dark foreboding washed over Michael's heart. He frantically radioed again to Fighter Command, "Ack ack bearing down on five!" he repeated as he raised the sights on his ack-ack: a Hurricane I anti-aircraft plane that he affectionately called Black Storm.   
  
He pushed the button.   
  
And hoped the gun camera would catch the Messerschmitt's demise.   
  
"Mark!" O'Mara shouted in relief as the Messerschmitt 109E suddenly veered off to the left, and then plunged down in a twisting spiral, black smoke trailing above the falling plane.   
  
Michael watched the plane make contact with the ground--an empty field. "Whooooo hoooo! Flight Command, Black Storm has one Messerschmitt down!"   
  
But then his attention was diverted to a shiny glint he caught out of the corner of his eye. The bottom of a Messerschmitt had opened and a bomb was being dropped on London. Squadron Leader O'Mara's mouth dropped in an "O" of horror. "Noooooooooo!" he screamed.   
  
"Germans are bombing Central London! Red alert! Repeat: Germans have dropped a bomb over Central London. Germans have dropped a bomb over Central London!"   
  
"Copy! RAF coming to assist. Flight Command out," responded Flight Command but Michael's attention was riveted to a group of bomber planes coming from the east--from the direction of the North Sea and Germany.   
  
He took a deep breath, and levelled the plane as he readied himself for another dogfight. He heard, rather than saw, other planes from the twenty two year old RAF taking off, ready to defend Britannia from the invading German bomber planes.   
  
  
  
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HQ, Luftflotte 3 (St Cloud, France) August 25, 1940   
  
"A navigation mistake?" Schlotter asked. "How could there be a navigation mistake? The Thames has a distinctive shape. Even at night, a pilot can't miss the Thames. The pilots were told to stay to the north-east of the Thames."   
  
The young SS officer squirmed. He was merely the messenger. "The RAF managed to get pilots up in the air. Our spies say that one pilot was already up in the air and shot down the first plane. That downing gave the RAF enough time to get more pilots in the air and repel our forces," the young SS officer informed him. His face looked grave. "That pilot was O'Mara."   
  
"O'Mara. Yes, yes. We'll deal with him later. I'm sure old Winston will attempt to retaliate. But nevertheless, we inadvertantly bombed London when the bombs were jettisoned," Generalfeldmarschall Schlotter commented. He looked thoughtful. "How many did we lose?" he asked, looking at the young SS officer.   
  
"Thirty eight, sir."   
  
Schlotter stroked his chin. "A navigation mistake could turn out to be the event which brings down England. Once she falls, we'll have most of Europe under our control."   
  
"I'm sorry, sir. I'm not following."   
  
Schlotter looked up. "Oh you will. The entire world will understand, soon. Very soon. Dismissed." He drummed his fingers on his desk before pushing the buzzer on the intercom. 


	2. Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE  
  
London, Saturday, September 7, 1940, Nine days before the full moon   
O'Connell residence, just before high tea at 5 pm on a sunny day   
  
  
  
"Honey? Have you seen the Book of The Dead?" Rick called out as Evie lay soaking in the bathtub. Evie sat up, water and bubbles dripping from her shoulders.   
  
"I think it's in Alex's room," she called. Evie lay back and rested her head on a small pillow. "They should have invented bubble baths a long time ago," she muttered to herself. She swirled the water around and watched as the bubbles foam. "And this bubble bath is nothing short of heaven itself," she said, closing her eyes.   
  
"What was that dear? Did you say something?" Rick called as he walked down the hallway to Alex's room.   
  
Evie sat up again. "Nothing, honey! Just talking to myself." She lay back once again and rested her head on the small pillow. Evie looked up, and saw a bullet hole. "Damn! I thought they'd repaired all those. Meela just has to pop up in my lives more than once," she muttered.   
  
She sat up. "Honey! We need to get the contractors here again! They left some bullet holes!" Evie called to Rick.   
  
"What's that? I couldn't hear you!" Rick called back from down the hallway. He was walking out of Alex's room holding the Book of the Dead in his hands. The thick tome was bound in leather and studded with jewels and gold.   
  
--Worth a fortune--Rick thought as he walked down the hallway towards the master bedroom.   
  
"I said Ancksunamun, I mean Meela, has left us another calling card!" Evie shouted as she took up a washcloth and began to scrub her arms. "Honey!" she called loudly.   
  
"Coming!" Rick called. He put the Book of the Dead down on a small mahogany table inlaid with silver and ebony and walked into the bathroom.   
  
"What calling card?" he asked. Evie pointed upwards to the corner of the room. Rick looked. It had been eight years since Meela and her cronies had kidnapped Alex, and in doing so, they'd pumped a lot of bullet holes into the bathroom.   
  
"Damn. Anck always has to mess in our lives. I'll call the contractors on Monday, okay?" he said as he kneeled down next to the bathtub. "Let me do your back," he said as he took the washcloth from Evie. She leaned forward to let Rick rub the washcloth over her back in small circles.   
  
"Reminds me of when my handmaidens used to do this," she murmured.   
  
"Handmaidens?!" Rick said in mock surprise. "I suppose I should have known you'd like your back washed, Princess Nefertiri," he told Evie's bare back as he finished washing her back. Evie lay back again. She smiled up at Rick, who was holding the washcloth in his hand. He swirled the bath water and the bubbles foamed.   
  
"Where's Alex?" Evie asked.   
  
"He's off at the football field with his mates," Rick replied. "He's supposed to be home for high tea."   
  
"Is he going to bring some of his mates home? We'd better tell Tallulah to make extra scones in case he does. Teenage boys can eat a lot," Evie said. "Funny, I don't remember teenage boys eating a lot before. I mean, when I was in my past life."   
  
"That's because you were in the harem," Rick said, smiling.   
  
"Rick! I was the Pharoah's daughter," Evie protested but Rick burst out in laughter. Evie splashed him with her bathwater, soaking his shirt with water and bubbles. "You know I had my own apartments!" she told him, laughing.   
  
"Mummy! Dad! Come quick!" Alex's voice was insistent--and alarmed. Both Rick and Evie were startled and Evie stood up quickly, bubbles sliding down her body. Rick handed her a bathrobe which she put on as they both called to Alex, "What is it, Alex?"   
  
"Dunno! Looks like a thunderstorm coming but I'm not so sure about that!" Alex's voice carried more alarm. Rick ran out of the room while Evie climbed out of the bathtub. Once she was out, she too started running towards the sound of Alex's voice and she tripped.   
  
"Oooomph!" she said.   
  
Hearing the thud, Rick turned around. "You okay, honey?"   
  
"Yes," Evie said as she got up and adjusted the bathrobe. She started to run, then thought better of it and walked quickly to where Alex was standing at the end of the hallway, looking out of the big window towards the east.   
  
Rick, Alex and Evie stood looking at the thick black line steadily moving towards London.   
  
"Uh, that's not a thunderstorm, is it mum?" Alex asked as he turned and looked at his mother. Evie's face was pale, paler than he'd ever seen it before and he was alarmed. Evie shook her head.   
  
"Dad? Do you know what it is?"   
  
Rick shook his head as well. "Can't be Imhotep. He dived into the Underworld."   
  
"Is it Ancksunamun or Meela?" asked Alex.   
  
Evie shook her head and Rick put a hand out to steady her. "I don't think so, Alex."   
  
The three members of the O'Connell family stood at the large window and watched as the thick black line moved towards London.   
  
As the three watched the thick dark line move ever closer to London, the big window slowly melted away into blackness, and then transformed into a shimmering golden light in the form of a blue skinned golden haired female figure who hovered just outside the O'Connell residence. Behind the woman, a haggard looking Ardeth was seen standing in a wrecked temple, the late summer wind ruffling his hair. A female voice, strong and resonant, told the thunderstruck O'Connells:   
  
"Ardeth Bey has restored the Ma'at of Egypt and returned my earthly incarnation to my Temple by the Ninth Day of the Full Moon. Although the Gods tried to prevent the Dark One from gathering power, our Power is very weak outside Egypt, and the Dark One has gathered the one you refer to as Hitler to his side. The Dark One has placed Hitler far beyond the boundaries of the ancient Egyptian trading empire and Hitler is beyond the reach of the Egyptian gods or else we would have dealt with him ourselves. It is under Hitler's command that the destruction of London has begun."   
  
"Daughter of Egypt and friend of the Restorer, you and those you shelter under this roof are now under the protection of the Gods of Egypt. The Restorer of Ma'at to Egypt shall bring you the Bracelet of Lostris to further assist you. Although I am far from Egypt, the Ancient Gods have massed their power and I will be able to protect you so long as you shall remain under this roof. Do not venture past the boundaries of your estate until the Restorer of Ma'at arrives, for I shall not be able to protect you if you leave.   
  
The woman faded out as Evie demanded, "Who are you?" The window now showed a woman being raped, then rapidly changed to show the same woman giving birth. The O'Connell's were able to understand the German being spoken.   
  
"What do you want to name him?" the O'Connells heard the English midwife ask the woman in German as she cut the umbilical cord. "Adolf. I'll name him Adolf," the woman replies. "Aye, he's got a black cloud over his head. He'll naught come to good," the midwife told the woman, who shrugged and held her arms out to receive her child. The midwife made a sign against the evil eye.   
  
The scene faded and the O'Connells then found themselves staring out the window at the thick black line of planes which filled the entire sky. The undersides of the planes opened and bombs began to fall over London.   
  
"We'd better get into the basement," Rick said, but the three were rooted with fear and nobody moved. A thick cloak of blackness floated down over the O'Connell estate and as the three family members watched, several planes veered off and flew directly towards the window the O'Connell's were facing.   
  
The undersides of the three planes opened and Alex counted the bombs as they fell towards the ground.   
  
"One, three, fivesixseven," his voice, tiny and frightened, whispered aloud. "Seven bombs. Mummy? Will the lady do as she said and protect us?" He wanted to run, to flee, but he was rooted to the floor in front of the window, wanting--needing--to protect his life but also needing to know if he would be protected by the Lady in the Window. Alex firmly believed in Egyptian magic for Alex had used Egyptian magic to bring back his mother from the dead.   
  
Evie hugged Alex to her, tightly. "Yes. Yes she will protect us."   
  
"Who was she? Someone you know?" Rick asked Evie as he hugged his family close to him. The bombs fell ever closer to the O'Connell residence.   
  
The three O'Connells watched as the bombs made contact with the thick black cloak--and they watched in awe as each of the bombs was bounced back up into the belly of the plane that had discharged them. The bombs exploded inside the planes and pieces of shrapnel flew in the air, bouncing off the black cloak until the metal pieces of the destroyed planes fell harmlessly into a field of heather near the O'Connell estate.   
  
"I, I don't know which goddess she was but her protection..." Evie said as her face grew concerned. She turned her thoughts inward for a moment. "Nuit! She was Nuit. She was always depicted with blue skin."   
  
"Nuit?" Alex asked, hugging his parents in relief. "She's gonna protect us?"   
  
"The Goddess of the Sky," Evie replied. "And she will protect us because Ardeth restored Ma'at."   
  
"Now my next question: what is the Bracelet of Lostris? And just how will it protect us?" Rick now asked Evie as they watched three more planes veer off towards their estate.   
  
"I've never heard of the Bracelet of Lostris," Evie admitted. "I suppose Ardeth will tell us," Evie finished, watching the black cloak gather into the shape of a woman. "Be gone!" they heard Nuit's voice tell the pilots, who had obviously been scared of the apparition for the planes suddenly veered upwards then crashed into each other, exploding into pieces.   
  
"Ardeth must have done something good for the Goddess to protect us like this," Alex exclaimed. "Why won't she protect all of London from the bombs?" Alex asked.   
  
Evie shook her head. "I don't know. She said their power outside Egypt was very weak."   
  
"What did Ardeth do?" asked Alex as they watched the bombs fall thick and fast from the twenty mile long line of planes filling the late afternoon sky. His feet felt rooted to the floor and he was unable to tear himself away.   
  
"Ardeth looked pretty haggard in that vision," Rick commented, putting an arm around Alex.   
  
"Tasks performed for the Gods are never easy," Evie said.   
  
"Does that mean someone was trying to bomb Cairo?" interjected Alex. His immediate safety needs being met, he was thinking ahead, trying to figure out what was happening so he could help his parents best respond--despite the bombs which were beginning to look rain.   
  
Evie considered, then shook her head in confusion. "You can ask him when he gets here," she told her son and hugged him. Outside, the steel rain came tumbling down from the sky and explosions were heard--but dulled by Nuit--from every part of the city.   
  
"Is the Bracelet of Lostris going to get rid of the planes?" Alex now asked, insistent as always.   
  
"The Bracelet of Lostris..." Evie said softly.   
  
"Did you remember what it is?" Rick asked his wife.   
  
Evie shook her head. "No. I'm trying to remember if I ever heard about the Bracelet of Lostris when I was Nefertiri. It must be some relic from a later age."   
  
"Or an earlier age. The Hyksos ruled Egypt for over two hundred years. Maybe it's something of theirs," Alex put in. "I'm just trying to help figure this out. There's nothing we can do about the bombs," he put in quickly.   
  
"I know, darling," Evie said sadly. "We also need Ardeth's help. Lostris is a female Egyptian name, meaning Daughter of the Waters," Evie said. "Why would we need the help of a Daughter of the Waters? We're inland!" she exclaimed, watching the bombs falling over the smoky skyline of London. Birds were frantically trying to escape the smoke and were flying en masse towards the O'Connell estate.   
  
"Uhm, perhaps we need to escape by boat?" Alex asked. "We really should go to the basement." His parents weren't listening.   
  
"Nuit said, 'under this roof'. Does that mean we can't leave?" Rick asked his wife.   
  
Evie was looking confused. "I, uh, I don't know."   
  
"Nuit said 'you and those you shelter under this roof shall be protected from the upcoming destruction of London.' I think that does mean we can't leave the house," Alex said.   
  
"Until Ardeth gets here and tells us more about what he did to earn his new title, I think it would be best if two of us stayed in the house at all times. We can offer shelter to those in need. After tonight, the villagers will need shelter," Evie said as a mallard duck lost its orientation in the smoke and careened towards the big window. Alex hurried to pull the window open and the duck flew in right after Alex had raised the window up.   
  
The duck had flown into the curtains and had managed to pull the curtains down over the frightened O'Connells.   
  
Angry quacks sounded as the duck tried to extricate itself from the curtains.   
  
"Must be named Evie," Alex intoned as he pulled the curtains off himself.   
  
"The bookcases are still standing," observed Rick from behind his billowing white curtain.   
  
"Ha, ha to the two of you. Humor at this time is not called for. Besides, that's a male duck. Look at his coloring," Evie replied in a dry voice as she too extracted herself from the curtains. Rick was doing the same and the O'Connells held the curtains in their hands as the duck, now free, was quacking and walking around in a circle, stamping his feet. The duck started to fly down the hallway, then spied the bathtub full of water. He flew into the bathroom and landed on the tub before jumping in.   
  
"Just what is Ardeth's new title?" demanded Alex.   
  
Alex balled up the curtains and placed them on the bench just underneath the window sash.   
  
"Restorer of Ma'at," his mother replied. She brushed a wisp of her hair out of her face.   
  
"What does that mean?" Alex asked.   
  
"It means that there was something wrong with Egypt and Ardeth corrected the wrongness, or at least he ameliorated it enough for him to earn the title of Restorer of Ma'at to Egypt. The Gods of Egypt do not bestow that title lightly, or to just anyone," Evie said with authority.   
  
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, but what does it mean? Does it mean Imhotep's back with Anubis's army?" Alex asked, pointing to the planes which were filling the London skyline.   
  
"The Dark One is Set, Seth. He is normally depicted with red hair and either red or blue eyes," Evie said. "He is Brother to Osiris. Set killed Osiris and hacked his body into 14 pieces that he scattered around the globe. His sisters, Isis and Nepthys, gathered them up and put them back together again, before..." Evie intoned, desperately trying to take her mind off the bombs.   
  
"Would Imhotep have this kind of power?" Rick interrupted, ignoring Evie's impromptu dissertation on Egyptian mythology.   
  
"Imhotep wanted to rule Egypt, not London," Evie replied.   
  
"If he couldn't rule Egypt would he try to conquer London?" Alex asked, but his mother cut him off.   
  
"Nuit said the Dark One called Hitler. This destruction was wrought by human minds, not the minds of Imhotep and Anubis," Evie said. "Nuit is the mother of Set, Osiris, Isis and Nepthys."   
  
"Nuit is Set's mother?" Rick asked incredulously. "No wonder she's willing to protect us," he finished.   
  
"Talk about a wayward son!" Alex said. "And you two get on my case a lot," he complained.   
  
"You don't set out to destroy London, dear. We'll wait until Ardeth arrives and figure it out then," Evie told him as she hugged him to her, tightly.   
  
The three O'Connells fell silent trying to figure out what was happening and they watched with tears running down their faces as they looked out over London as the bombs fell. The skyline was black with smoke, and they could see Nuit protecting their estate each time a plane veered off towards their house. "Be Gone!" Nuit's powerful voice resonated.   
  
But the sounds of the bombs were muffled by Nuit, and the three O'Connells were grateful.   
  
"So many dead..." Evie said. "I almost wish it was Anubis's army here...at least we would know what to do..." her voice trailed off as they watched the twenty mile long line of planes drop the bombs over London.   
  
Soon, the invading planes started to avoid their area of London. The smoke around the O'Connell estate cleared and people were running for the undamaged O'Connell estate.   
  
"Let's go let them in," Alex suggested. "I'll get the extra blankets," he said as he pulled back from his parents and went off to the storeroom.   
  
Rick and Evie went downstairs to let the frightened people inside.   
  
  
  
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A sense of dread premonition filled Evie and she moaned in her sleep. Outside the O'Connell home, the muffled sounds of the bombs continued to be heard throughout the death filled night.   
  
In the wee hours of the morning, after tending to the surviving villagers and ensuring the duck had fresh water in the bathtub--the duck had refused to leave and had angrily quacked every time someone tried to shoo him out a window--Evie had lain down for a while. But the night was not a night destined for sound sleep.   
  
Time and space seemed to telescope and Evie found herself standing in a desert vista.   
  
Heartbeats filled the air: da-dump da-dump da-dump.   
  
Evie watched, terrified, as Ardeth was tossed and turned in turbulent water. She saw an angry Set reaching down and holding a struggling Ardeth under the water until Ardeth, using even the tidal breath the lungs held, lay limp in the roiling water--his long dark hair floating around his scratched face, his dark eyes open forever and his soul lost under the waters. A last bubble of air hovered between his slighltly open lips, then slipped out and upwards.   
  
The heartbeats slowed, da-dumped one last time and stilled. Set turned his red-haired head and his astonishingly blue eyes seemed to bore into Evie. Set threw his head back and laughed.   
  
"Daughter of Egypt!" Set's gravelly voice boomed in Evie's ears. She put her hands up to cover her ears but Set's laughter boomed again and he spoke louder.   
  
"Soon your friend shall be dead in the manner that I have shown you. My powers are growing stronger every day. You know the death rituals from the Book of the Dead, Daughter of Egypt. Ardeth's attainment of Ma'at means nothing to me, and if his body is not prepared properly, Ardeth shall be doomed to roam the underworld with the one who planned the destruction of the Pyramids."   
  
"And this time, my follower shall rule for a thousand years!"   
  
A guttural sound rose up from Set's throat as he thew his head back and laughed. And laughed. Set chose that moment to disappear.   
  
Shortly after Ardeth's death, the waters cleared and Evie could see Ardeth floating to the surface. His body bobbed clear of the surface and floated there, face down, his eyes open, his dark hair floating around his head. Another body, a male's, had already bobbed to the surface of the water and Ardeth's body brushed up against the dead man.   
  
Ardeth's strong hands were floating just under the surface of the water and Evie could see an electrum bracelet studded with emeralds on Ardeth's wrist.   
  
"The Bracelet of Lostris," Evie whispered in a panicky voice. "How come it didn't help Ardeth?" Deep fear gripped her and she felt faint.   
  
A juvenile fish came to investigate the new offerings. The young fish looked into Ardeth's open eyes, then started nibbling at Ardeth's lips. Shortly, other fish, both juvenile and adult, joined in the feast.   
  
Evie screamed. But the dream just repeated itself. And repeated. 


	3. Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO  
  
Djeba, Egypt, Sunday September 8, 1940, Dawn   
  
  
Ardeth opened his eyes to see the golden figure Nuit hovering over him.   
  
"The Daughter of Egypt, her husband and child are safe, and will remain safe provided they stay within the boundaries of their estate. Our power is very weak outside the boundaries of the ancient Egyptian trading empire but the Gods have massed their power and I am able to protect them."   
  
"The Hyksos entered Egypt from beyond the Tigris River at the urging of the disgraced and exiled Lord Intef, who was the father of Lostris. The Daughter of the Waters has offered her power to protect your friends where I can not."   
  
"In her time, she was asked by Pharoah Mamose to protect the double crown of Egypt for their son, Prince Memnon, and she delivered the Prince safely to Lower Egypt. As Pharoah Tamose he begat the progenitor of Ahmose, who, with the help of the Bracelet, finally expelled the Hyksos from Egypt. The Bracelet of Lostris contains the power necessary to expel the followers of the Dark One from London and end the daily bombardment. You must carry the Bracelet to London."   
  
"Daily bombardment?" Ardeth croaked, his throat tightening. He didn't like what the Great Mother was telling him.   
  
"The Dark One has it in his mind to recreate the invasion of Egypt by the Hyksos.The Hyksos ruled Egypt for two hundred fifty years. This time, the Dark One's follower will continue to bombard London daily to try to subjugate the populace, for he wishes to rule a thousand years. Your friends shall be under the protection of the Gods of Egypt until you arrive with the Bracelet. Hurry my son! The Dark One will try to place many obstacles in your way in an attempt to impede you in your journey but I shall help you when I am able."   
  
The golden light of Nuit faded and Ardeth sat up on the hard bed. He rubbed his eyes, then stood up. The last three days had seen Ardeth with no sleep. He'd been shown the bombardment of London and although it had been dawn in Egypt, he'd seen that sun was low on the horizon in London.   
  
Unlike Cairo, Djeba was a rural village, adhering to the way of life lived for thousands of years in Egypt. Here in Djeba, the villagers still used the shadoof--a water lifter--instead of indoor plumbing to get water from the Nile. Ardeth remembered that he'd felt helpless when Nuit had shown him the bombing of London. He knew the bombing would begin late that afternoon yet there was no way to warn his friends, the O'Connells.   
  
He'd spent the rest of yesterday in the Temple of Nuit. As the Egyptian dusk settled over the desert, an intense feeling of wrongness slipped into his soul and Ardeth knew then that the bombing of London had begun. Tears had fallen from his eyes as his soul felt the passing of those who died that day: he counted four hundred eighty eight souls which had passed through the Crossroads of Time.   
  
Ardeth had made his way back to Djeba, where he sat alone in the small mud brick house he'd rented from the headman. He'd sat on bed with his head in his hands, unable to eat, unable to drink. He hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep until he'd opened his eyes and seen the Great Mother hovering over him.   
  
Now he took up the pitcher of water and drank directly from the pitcher. The water was cool and delicious going down his parched throat. Finishing the pitcher, he set it down, and went outside into the brightening dawn. He looked up at the retreating belly of Nuit. She sent a cooling breath of wind to him, ruffling his hair and caressing his face before the wind passed by him and went out into the desert. Ardeth watched as the Bringer of the Wind formed a curtain of sand--and showed him the O'Connell's house.   
  
The Medjai's face broke into a smile as he saw his friends, safe in their home. From the looks of it, they'd offered their home as a shelter to the villagers who lived in the small village nearby. A duck was swimming serenely in the O'Connell's bathtub.   
  
Ardeth looked at their faces and saw their faces relaxed but strained and he knew that Nuit was silencing the sounds of the continued bombings that Ardeth saw in the background.   
  
"A duck is swimming in their bathtub?" Ardeth asked the vision in the sand.   
  
The Bringer of the Wind's breath ran out and the sand gently floated down to the ground. Ardeth knew he'd have a long journey back to Cairo, especially since he'd sent Martin back to Cairo with the plane. One of the village's children brought him a basket full of covered plates. The smells coming from the basket whetted Ardeth's appetite despite his not desiring to eat.   
  
"Thank you," Ardeth told the young girl. She bowed, then smiled at him. "Can you tell your father to arrange for a fast felucca to carry me to Abydos?" Abydos was as far as the felucca owners would sail from Djeba.   
  
The young girl nodded and smiled before turning and walking away.   
  
Ardeth started to carry his breakfast into the small mud brick house, then thought better of it and sat down outside the small home. Taking out one of the covered plates, he lifted the lid and was greeted with the sight and smell of roasted potatoes, vegetables and stewed meat. He took up the spoon and began to eat.   
  
After breakfast, Ardeth, bathed and dressed in fresh clothes, went to find the felucca he'd rented. Ra was beginning to ride high in the sky and the day would be hot and dry.   
  
"My daughter prepared your breakfast, Commander. Did you find it to your satisfaction?" the felucca's owner asked, as he helped to load the supplies they'd need onto the reed boat.   
  
"She is an excellent cook for one her age, and she is commended on her skill," Ardeth noted. "Is she not able to talk?"   
  
Ankhef nodded. "The Dark One must have been hovering near when she was born, for she is mute--her hyoid bone is missing," he said sadly, "though she knows how to write."   
  
Ardeth grimaced at the mention of the Dark One. "He has been hovering near many people as of late," he said.   
  
Ankhef made a sign to ward off the Dark One. "Nuit must be ashamed to have the Dark One as her son. You, earthly Son of Nuit, are much better for her."   
  
Ardeth started. "Why do you think I am a Son of Nuit?"   
  
"You possess the countenance of an earthly Son of Nuit. The soul of a warrior beats within your heart," Ankhef said. "To be an earthly Son of Nuit is a blessing. Your fight against the Dark One has a better chance of succeeding in your favor," he finished.   
  
"Fight?" Ardeth asked, trying to feign ignorance but the dark brown eyes of Ankhef bored into him.   
  
"Nuit has called you to help her in her fight against her son, the Dark One. This much I was shown in a dream during the last full moon."   
  
Ardeth thought for a moment. He was encountering too many coincidences in the past month and many of these people appeared just when they had been needed to help him in his journey to Djeba.   
  
Now here was another man who was telling him about a dream concerning Ardeth. Was this the work of the Gods? Were they amassing earth-bound help because they were trying to expel the follower of the Dark One from the earthly realm?   
  
"Is this the work of the Gods?" Ardeth asked, then realized he'd given himself away.   
  
Ankhef replied, "I believe it is," he said slowly. "All that I was shown in my vision was that the Dark One is amassing his forces beyond Egypt, and there will be many people who will be needed in the coming years to fight him. It could be that the Gods are calling those who have assisted them in ages past, and have been reincarnated at this time."   
  
Ardeth nodded. Ankhef's explanation was as good as Ardeth's own explanation. From his nightmares, Ardeth knew that millions of people would be killed in the coming years. The Gods would need earth-bound help to prevent millions--billions--more from meeting an early death.   
  
The felucca was now loaded with supplies for their trip. Ardeth had hired the felucca to take him to Abydos. He would catch a train in Abydos to Cairo--there were no private planes available in Abydos. The two men stepped on the deck of the felucca and Ankhef undid the ropes which tied the felucca to the small dock.   
  
As the felucca sailed towards Abydos, Ardeth sat on the deck and thought about Ankhef's words. Nuit had known about Hitler. Were the Gods trying to help him by showing visions to those who assisted the Egyptian Gods in a past life?   
  
The Egyptian day wore on, hot and dry, as Ardeth had suspected. He had tried to help with the poling, but Ankhef and his sons pushed him away, telling him the Commander of the Medjai, and Nuit's Chosen One, must save his strength to fight the Dark One.   
  
Ardeth had felt a bit uneasy at their words, but he was exhausted and didn't put up much of a fight. He sat back under the canopy and thought about the task which had been set before him. He'd been sure that Nuit had told him she wouldn't be needing his help for many floodings of the Nile. Why did she now task him with bringing the Bracelet of Lostris to London?   
  
Unless...unless Nuit had meant that his task was to prevent the forces of the Dark One from destroying Egypt, and his restoring Ma'at to Egypt was only the first part of the task.   
  
If that was true, then Ardeth would have an arduous task ahead of him--one that could take years.   
  
Despite his night's sleep, Ardeth soon found himself dozing in the afternoon sunshine. The past month had worn him out. A wealth of thick black hair spread out on the silk cushion he leaned against. In his sleep, the corners of his mouth turned up slightly as he dreamed.   
  
Not a nightmare this time. The Gods took pity on his dreams, and instead of having a terrifying dream, Ardeth was riding a strong black stallion through a land full of green plants. Soft rain was coming down and drenching Ardeth as he rode his horse.   
  
He was soaking wet in this pleasant dream, but his dream self didn't seem to mind. A steady rain was calming to him--he was a desert man--and being drenched with water was far better than being drenched in sand from a khamsin wind.   
  
In his dream, the dream Ardeth shivered, for he remembered the horrifying dream with the devil khamsin wind bearing down upon him. He remembered dreaming that the Pyramids were exploding...and both Ardeth and his dream self cringed as he recalled the memory of the millions of souls who suddenly found themselves in the Crossroads of Time. Those souls were crying.   
  
But the rhythmic motions of the black stallion riding through green countryside soon calmed Ardeth's nerves, and both his dream self and his physical self relaxed.   
  
From her own sleeping place, Nuit sleepily opened her silver irised eyes. She smiled down on her earthly son as he lay dreaming, and she sent soft winds to ruffle his hair.   
  
"I kiss the sweat from your brow...I will stay near you, my Son..." she whispered before closing her eyes. She would need to be awake soon, for the afternoon was waning and Ra would arrive home to awaken her.   
  
Ardeth awoke with a start. Beside him was a pitcher of water, which he picked up and took a long sip. Wiping his hand across his mouth, he set the pitcher down and looked around. The sun was going low on the horizon.   
  
He stood up and walked to the small room set aside for use as a bathroom. After finishing his hygiene, Ardeth stepped out and walked down the length of the felucca to an area where a table had been laid out and set with steaming plates full of couscous, vegetables, dipping sauces for the pita bread. Beer was in a pitcher.   
  
"Greetings, Commander of the Medjai," Nakhtmin said. "My sister has prepared this food for you."   
  
"Is she here? Your sister?" asked Ardeth as he sat down at the table. "The breakfast she prepared for me was quite acceptable," he finished as he picked up a piece of warm bread and dipped it in the sauce.   
  
"She is below deck, sleeping away the hot part of the afternoon," Nakhtmin told him as Ardeth took a bite of the bread.   
  
Nakhtmin bowed and left Ardeth alone to eat. He was needed poling, Ardeth thought to himself as he enjoyed the food Ankhef's daughter had prepared. I don't know her name, Ardeth thought and made a note to himself to correct that deficiency as soon as he saw Ankhef.   
  
As he ate, he thought about Ankhef's words. Ardeth was pitted against Nuit and Geb's son, Set. Osiris was murdered by Set and hacked into pieces. Their sisters, Nepthys and Isis, had found the remains of Osiris--sans the phallus--and reassembled him and Osiris became God of the Dead. Set was exiled by Osiris's son Horus. The Book of the Dead depicted Set in an alternate guise as the God of Wind and Storms.   
  
The more he thought about the situation, the more he realized that Nuit was needing an earthly son to counteract Set's deeds. Hitler was native to Germany, far outside the boundaries of the ancient Egyptian trading empire. Ardeth knew that wherever the Egyptian Gods had been worshipped, wispy remnants of their power existed and that power would be used were Egypt to be threatened.   
  
But the Egyptian trading empire was never as far north as Germany and Set had placed his follower there. The Gods needed a mortal to counteract the deeds of the Dark One's chosen mortal.   
  
Fitting, Ardeth thought. Set is also the God of Foreign Lands and it would be just like him to place his followers beyond the boundaries of the Egyptian trading empire. He knows that the Gods would ensure the destruction of those who followed him were Set's followers located within the far boundaries of the ancient Egyptian trading empire.   
  
The pilot who planned the destruction of the Pyramids is now in the Underworld, Ardeth thought. He is in the underworld because he travelled into the borders of the ancient Egyptian trading boundaries, and the Gods showed their anger at his potential actions against Egypt.   
  
Ardeth turned the events of the past month over in his mind. Just as he needed help, help appeared. First in the form of Martin Wilkes, the former Keeper of the Bracelet. Martin had called upon Lostris's help and she had first cleared the murky waters under the Mediterraean and then had called a dolphin to help him get back to the surface.   
  
Now Ankhef had been placed in his path. Yes, Ardeth now thought. The Gods are trying to help place Hitler in the Underworld. They are calling all those people who are capable of helping me in my quest. The Gods of Egypt are angry at Set.   
  
Despite the help he had been given, the Commander hoped he would be able to get to London in time...and in one piece. 


	4. Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE  
  
O'Connell residence, London, England, pre-dawn hours, Sunday September 8, 1940   
  
  
  
"Honey! Honey! Wake up!" Rick said as he gently shook Evie's shoulder.   
  
Evie sat up with a start. A lock of her dark hair fell over her eyes. "Ardeth! He's in trouble! We must warn him!" she shouted.   
  
Rick took Evie in his arms and stroked her hair. "Shhh. I'll send a telegram to him. What kind of trouble is he facing?"   
  
"That troublemaker Set. He is planning on drowning Ardeth. And I think Ardeth has the Bracelet of Lostris. He was wearing the Bracelet in my dream," a shocked Evie stammered. "Amongst his other duties, Set is the god of wind and storms. We must warn Ardeth!"   
  
"I'll go out later and see if I can get a telegram to Ardeth," Rick replied as he stroked Evie's hair and rocked her.   
  
Evie sat up as she realized the dull sounds from the dropping bombs had ceased. "The bombs! They've stopped bombing us," she said.   
  
"Sounds like it," Rick replied.   
  
"Do you think they'll drop more bombs?" Evie asked, her voice tremulous. She sank back against Rick's chest, allowing his arms to envelop her again. She breathed deeply of his scent.   
  
"I don't know. We've been fighting an air raid since July 10."   
  
"We should be prepared, just in case. We need to stock up on supplies for the villagers," she murmured.   
  
"I'll go out later this morning," Rick said.   
  
"Neferteri's father and grandfather were rumored to have red hair, like Set's. They both tried to popularize the worship of Set." Evie murmured, changing the subject.   
  
"Doesn't Seti's name mean "he of the God Set?" Rick asked, his voice sleepy.   
  
Evie's voice was barely audible, "yes," she breathed. Her breathing evened out and RIck realized she was asleep. He kept rocking Evie and soon he too fell into a dazed sleep.   
  
  
O'Connell residence, London, England, mid-morning, Sunday September 8, 1940   
  
The night had been long, and weary. The villagers had come to the O'Connell residence seeking shelter and the O'Connells let them in, gave them bread and hot tea and one by one the villagers dropped off into a stony sleep. The sounds of the bombing were dulled by the strange black cloud which had settled over the O'Connell estate.   
  
Rick would make an offering to Nuit and thank her for drowning out the sounds of the bombs, which had finally ended around 4:30 am, about the time he had woken Evie up from her nightmare.   
  
But what Nuit couldn't drown out was the anguished cries of the doomed souls who had suddenly found themselves on their way to the Afterlife, instead of on their way to high tea yesterday afternoon.   
  
When Rick had first moved to England, he had thought it strange how English villages were laid out: a small collection of residences, and one large manor house, either at the village edge or down the road from the village.   
  
Evie had told him the layout was a remnant of the feudal age: the Lord owned the biggest house and the villagers lived in the smaller houses. In the Middle Ages, the villagers would work in the Lord's fields, or in his house and in return, the Lord would give the villagers protection.   
  
Now it was the O'Connells who provided protection to the villagers from something the feudal lords had never dreamed about: bombs.   
  
Rick was glad that he was the one who went to send Ardeth a telegram. The devastation caused by the bombs last night was terrifying--blackened bombed out shells of homes were littered on streets and he didn't want Evie or Alex to see this destruction.   
  
He found himself passing the village store. Its blackened shell still smoldered and pieces of shrapnel were shining in the morning sunlight.   
  
Rick picked his way carefully around the debris. Nothing remained. They would have to rely on the supplies laid up in the O'Connell basement. Rick was glad to see the library was intact on the other side of the store, for the library contained the telegraph equipment.   
  
He went to the library, opened the doors and stepped inside.   
  
"Shhhh! Someone's here!" a boy's voice whispered.   
  
"It is them? Are they here to kill us?" a girl's voice whispered back.   
  
Rick cleared his throat. "It's okay. I'm Rick O'Connell." Rick opened the door to let the sunlight in and he stepped aside so the young kids could see him.   
  
"It's not them!" the child shouted happily and came out from beneath a table. Bookcases had tumbled down, and books were strewn everywhere.   
  
The girl stood up, and Rick saw she was one of the village children--seven year old Mary Hartford. She appeared to be unhurt physically. Mary motioned to her friend, and the boy also stood up. Rick saw that he was nine year old Michael O'Hare.   
  
"Boy, are we sure glad to see you!" Michael gushed to Rick, his changing voice full of relief. His face had a scratch on the forehead, and other than being scared, Michael was physically all right.   
  
"Are you all right?" Rick asked.   
  
Both children nodded.   
  
"Good. If you will go to my house, you will be safe. Your parents are there. They will be glad to see you. They thought you were dead."   
  
"Thank you!" both children went by Rick and out the door.   
  
"Be careful, and run to my house...you will be protected!" Rick called after them. He started to turn the doorknob leading to the library's basement, then thought better of it and went back to the door.   
  
The two children had made their way to the village's end but were standing frozen at the bottom of the small hill leading to the O'Connell estate. They holding their hands up to protect themselves. Overhead, a lone bomber plane was circling--German by the insignia.   
  
"Ruuuuunnnnn!" Rick shouted to the children as he darted forward. Mary looked at the rumbling cloud over the O'Connell estate. The cloud was quickly turning black. Mary tugged on Michael's arm and he looked. The two children looked at each other, then simultaneously broke into the fastest run Rick had ever seen.   
  
He was charging behind the children when they reached the edge of the estate, and were enveloped by the black cloud covering of Nuit. Golden light suffused the dark cloud and her voice rang out "Be gone!" and the cloud made contact with the lone bomber plane.   
  
Rick watched dumbfounded as the plane exploded into pieces. The two children were holding hands, and their mouths hung open.   
  
"Thank you, Nuit," Rick said.   
  
"You are welcome," her melodious voice answered, startling Rick. The black cloud drained away until there was just a golden shimmer hovering over the O'Connell estate.   
  
"Nuit?" he asked but the golden shimmer remained silent. "Hmmmpf. She probably needs to recoup her strength," Rick said aloud to no one in particular.   
  
Rick motioned for the children to go into the house, but their parents had already run out to meet them.   
  
Seeing that the families were reunited and that the sky was clear of bomber planes for the moment, Rick went back to the library and went down to the library's basement and used the telegraph machine to send Ardeth a telegram.   
  
TO: COMMANDER ARDETH BEY, CAIRO EGYPT STOP WE ARE OKAY STOP STRANGE BLACK CLOUD HOVERS OVER OUR ESTATE BY NIGHT AND SHIMMERS GOLDEN BY DAY STOP WE THINK IT IS NUIT PROTECTING US STOP SET IS PLANNING ON DROWNING YOU STOP TAKE CARE AND PLEASE HURRY STOP RICK O'CONNELL END   
  
After sending the telegram, Rick stood in the doorway to the library, and looked at the remnants of the village. The blackened shells were still smoking and from the library's door, Rick could see street after street of London, blackened and smoking from the bombs.   
  
Tears started slipping down Rick's face. 


	5. Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR  
  
Egyptian Airspace, between Cairo and Alexandria, September 16, 1940, afternoon   
  
  
  
The plane engines hummed with power. Ardeth was seated in the rear seat, his abayor filled with water (although Martin kept referring to the abayor as a canteen), a sack of onions and a large chunk of goat cheese wrapped in linen cloth were underneath his seat. The water and cheese were for eating; the onions helped to keep away the scorpions and were also tasty boiled in water.   
  
A feeling of doom had settled in Ardeth's soul. He'd received Rick's telegram and was grateful that Nuit was protecting his friends. But the accounts of the destruction of London by the Luftwaffe was horrifying.   
  
Ardeth felt under his robes to the leather pouch secured around his waist. The Bracelet was there, its power restored, for Martin had had the Bracelet repaired and emeralds from Gebel Umm Kabu in the Eastern Sahara gleamed in their settings. Martin had performed an elaborate ceremony transferring the Bracelet from his possession to Ardeth's, and Ardeth's soul felt a thrumming from the restored Bracelet.   
  
"Here we go!" Martin shouted back over his shoulder. Ardeth merely smiled at Martin and adjusted his aviator goggles. He had to admit to himself, albeit secretly, that he enjoyed flying.   
  
Eight years ago when he and the O'Connell's were battling the High Priest Imhotep, Seti I's Imhotep, Ardeth had travelled across the desert hanging onto the wing of a plane. He had been grateful none of the Medjai were there to see the expression on his face, which he had rather suspected showed a goofy expression. Despite the reason for the trip, he had enjoyed and had been exhilarated with flying through the air.   
  
The feeling was no different when the plane he was now seated in lifted into the air. Ardeth felt the rush of excitement when the plane was fully airborne and headed towards Alexandria.   
  
Ardeth was in favor of anything which lifted the feeling of doom from his soul.   
  
A movement flickered in the corner of Ardeth's eye. He turned his head to the right, and saw a huge wall of sand bearing down upon the small plane.   
  
"Noooooooooooo!" Martin's voice cried out but the sound was choked off by the blowing sand and the fierce wind which accompanied the khamsin.   
  
"You will not reach your destination, Ardeth Bey," came a deep, gravelly male voice from the sand. "I am Set, and although my mother and the Gods of Egypt are protecting your friends, I have overpowered them in this very Egypt of ours. I am not fond of the Bracelet of Lostris nor of the spawn she begat. You and the Keeper of the Bracelet will be deposited in the vast Saharan, far from any water source, and far from the nomadic tribes which wander the desert. Your souls will not reach the Afterlife for your bodies will mummify underneath the sands of the desert."   
  
Mad laughter rang in Ardeth's ears as the plane was flipped over and over in the air. Ardeth hung onto the straps holding him in his seat. He hoped Martin was still in the plane and that he had the sense to hold onto the seat straps.   
  
Ardeth felt the blood rushing to his head as the plane was suspended upside down and pushed faster than Ardeth had flown before, and he lost track of time.   
  
  
  
Somewhere in the Sahara spanning North Africa, late afternoon, September 16, 1940...  
  
  
Ardeth felt himself slowly falling. Falling to one's death wasn't so bad, he thought to himself as he saw the blue sky above him. Ra, Ardeth thought wildly as his back made contact with the sand.   
  
"Poomph!" he involuntarily said. Ardeth lay on his back, his breath coming in ragged pants. He wondered how he could have fallen out of the plane if he was strapped in. Further, he wondered just how he could be alive if he'd fallen from the plane. Was this the Afterlife?   
  
"You are safe," Nuit's voice, mingled with a male voice that was familiar, whispered, faint and weak, and Ardeth's soul rejoiced. "My dear little one," Nuit's melodious voice murmured as the voice faded out.   
  
Gradually Ardeth's head cleared and he sat up, trying to see Martin.   
  
Martin was sprawled on his back in a similar position. Ardeth crawled over to him. Martin was breathing and Ardeth breathed a sigh of relief.   
  
Ardeth stood up and looked around for the plane. A short ways from the two men, the plane was on its side, destroyed. Ardeth walked over to the plane and crawled up the side. Reaching down under the rear seat, he pulled out the metal canteen of water he'd secured there. He reached under the seat again and pulled out the cheese and the small sack of onions.   
  
His heart nearly stopped beating when he looked closely at the straps which had held him in the seat. There were no straps visible, only the shredded ends. The Dark One did his work thoroughly. Ardeth's face paled, and he involuntarily licked his lips. He wondered how far they'd fallen from the sky.   
  
Ardeth climbed back down the side of the plane. He opened the canteen and took a small sip, swishing the water around his mouth to get rid of the sand. He spit the water and sand out, then took a larger sip that felt silky going down his parched throat.   
  
He carried the canteen over to Martin. Groaning, Martin sat up and tried to speak. Ardeth handed him the canteen.   
  
"Just a small sip to wash out your mouth," Ardeth cautioned as Martin took a sip from the canteen. Washing out his mouth, Martin next took a larger swallow.   
  
"What the hell was that?" he asked Ardeth after swallowing. Martin wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and put the cap back on the canteen. The canteen was their only source of water and Martin wasn't sure if the memories of his past life contained the knowledge of how to find water in the desert. He would have to trust Ardeth, and Ardeth's knowledge of finding water in the desert.   
  
"That, my friend, was Set's doing," Ardeth replied.   
  
"Hell of a way to re-introduce himself to me."   
  
"Set was always a troublemaker," Ardeth commented.   
  
"I seem to remember he was a troublemaker," Martin said.   
  
"How did we...?"   
  
"Nuit. And, I think Imhotep. Somehow they cushioned our fall. If they had not, well, you know."   
  
Martin gulped. "Seti's Imhotep saved us?"   
  
Ardeth shook his head. "No. Djoser's Imhotep: the architect of the Step Pyramid."   
  
"Yes! Now I remember. Taita was a huge follower of the Great Imhotep. I thought Set was going to try and drown you," Martin finished.   
  
"I think he is saving that for later," Ardeth said with a frown.   
  
Ardeth turned and walked towards a high sand dune some ways away.   
  
Ardeth looked back over his shoulder. "I will see where we are and find out if there's a way to get water."   
  
Martin smiled sadly and nodded. Soon Ardeth's black clothed figure shrank into the distance. He sighed, and stood up and walked over to look at the remains of his downed plane.   
  
  
  
  
Djeba, Age of Taurus, About 2630 BC, Temple of Nuit, just before midnight...  
  
  
Salty sweat ran down the Grand Vizier Imhotep's face and dripped onto the stone floor. Using the mushroom was always dangerous, and the visions obtained with the use of the mushroom were exhausting.   
  
Tonight was no exception. Imhotep had taken a personal interest in the Restorer of Ma'at, and he desperately wanted to ensure the safe future of Egypt. This was the reason why Imhotep found himself sitting cross legged in the temple night after night, eating the mushroom, and enduring its side effects: watery stools, stomach cramps, and sleeplessness.   
  
In the Crossroads of Time, Imhotep had been both delighted and shocked at the future. Early in the second half of the Age of Pisces, new lands would be discovered across the vast ocean far to the west, but a blood borne sickness would well up in the glands of the human population and decimate the peoples to the north of the Great Green.   
  
Last night, Imhotep had gained entrance to the Crossroads of Time and had made contact with Kysen, Ardeth's remote grandfather. He'd also made contact with the Priest Tefibi.   
  
And although Imhotep's own future was shrouded, Imhotep had clearly seen the future of the Restorer of Ma'at.   
  
He'd gathered his strength and with Nuit's power, helped the two men land safely on the sands of the Sahara--as near to a water source as Imhotep could place them, given Set's angry sandstorm.   
  
"You are safe," he whispered aloud, and in his trance, he saw that Ardeth had heard him.   
  
Tonight, Imhotep's main task was to gain entrance once again to the Crossroads of Time to find Taita and Lostris in the Afterlife. The Restorer of Ma'at would need Lostris' help in getting to the shores of the Great Green unscathed--and Imhotep was afraid that Set was planning the death of the Restorer of Ma'at and the Keeper of the Bracelet.   
  
Imhotep breathed evenly, allowing his mind to empty, hoping he would be able to gain entry to the Crossroads of Time.   
  
Because time was running out for the Restorer of Ma'at. 


	6. Chapter Five

CHAPTER FIVE  
  
Age of Gemini, about six thousand five hundred years ago on the grassy, but drying, Giza Plain...  
  
  
The wind blew the remains of Khuta's hair back from her ruined face. Once she had been as beautiful as the deep green stones she wore around her neck. The stones were from under the sands on the eastern side of the great green river.   
  
But the savannah fire had licked her face and had left thick purple scars. The fire had burned half of her hair off, and the scars on one side of her head were so thick no hair could grow there.   
  
She had despaired of ever finding a mate but women were valuable, and so were the children they carried within their wombs.   
  
Her father had told her she was to be married. Her womb would bring forth fruit, he told her, and ensure the future of this land.   
  
Khuta was disinclined to believe her father. How could a child ensure the future of the land? Her tribe had walked for many moons, leaving behind the land in which she had buried her mother. One spring day Khuta had woken up and found her mother covered with tiny sores. Soon, her mother had died and one by one so did other members of her tribe.   
  
So they had left that land, thinking perhaps evil spirits lingered there. And for moons they had walked eastwards until they came to a large plain. Here, Kysen said they would live.   
  
And now she would marry Kysen.   
  
A small wind roused the drying earth, and the earth formed a picture in the air. Khuta gasped! The earth was changing into the shape of a man--strong, with dark piercing eyes. The shape of his face reminded Khuta of how her own face had looked before the savannah fire had ruined the soft skin. The man was looking straight at her. Strange blue markings were tattooed on the man's face.   
  
"He is a warrior," Khuta thought. "With those piercing eyes and that countenance, he is a warrior through and through," she finished and was startled when a male voice spoke.   
  
"He is your descendent, Khuta. And yes, he is a warrior. He is needed in a future time to ensure the restoration of Ma'at to this land."   
  
Khuta was startled at the words which came from the thin air and she wanted to run. But her curiosity got the better of her, so she asked, "What is his name?"   
  
"Ardeth. He is the man your son's descendents will beget in a future time, near the end of the Age of Pisces. He will restore the Ma'at to Egypt and liberate a city across the Great Green and far to the northwest. You must take your son away when he is a year old, for the pitted scar disease will come to your tribe again and if you and your son do not go away until the flooding subsides, your son will contract the pitted scar disease and die," the voice answered and faded.   
  
"Ardeth..." Khuta whispered. "You are my son..." she said as the dry sandy earth dropped back to the ground.   
  
  
Nine months after Khuta's vision...   
  
Oh sweet Isis! The pain! Could not even the shaman give something to help dull the pain?   
  
Khuta's eyes glazed over and she felt something pressing between her legs. She grunted and was surprised when she felt something slip out of her.   
  
"A caul!" exclaimed the shaman.   
  
"It is a boy," Khuta said, panting. She made this as a statement, before seeing the child.   
  
"Yes, a boy," the shaman said as he removed the caul from the infant's face. Both he and Khuta sucked in their breath.   
  
"Those markings are familiar," Khuta murmured...'Ardeth!" she exclaimed as she remembered the face of her future descendant. In that distant time, the man in the sand had blue markings on his face very similar to these birthmarks the infant now bore.   
  
"Ardeth is not one of our tribal names," the shaman observed. "Do you wish to call him Ardeth?"   
  
Khuta thought about this a moment. She had asked Priest Tefibi about the Age of Pisces. He told her they were near the end of the Age of Gemini and the end of the Age of Pisces would not occur for at least six thousand five hundred floodings from now. He had been surprised at her question and she replied that she'd had a dream.   
  
"Yes. A new name in honor of a new home," she said as the shaman finished cutting the umbilical cord. The shaman dried the infant, who merely looked at the shaman with his huge dark brown eyes. The shaman handed the infant Ardeth to Khuta.   
  
--That's strange. Normally, babies' eyes are blue at birth and gradually darken to brown. I have known a green eyed infant whose mother had blue eyes and whose father had brown eyes--the shaman thought. --But for this infant's eyes to be brown at birth...this infant is destined, or his descendents are destined, for something special.--   
  
Nestled in his mother's arms, the baby began to nurse when his mother offered him her breast.   
  
"My son Ardeth, you will become a great warrior," Khuta whispered to her newborn son. She began to softly sing a lullaby as the newborn nursed.   
  
"What is it, little one?   
My good little one,   
My brave little one   
My dear little one   
What is it, little one?   
Be still, I will stroke your fingers   
I kiss the sweat from your brow   
I will stay near you   
You and I belong together"   
  
"A warrior in this life, or in a future life," the shaman added silently to himself as he watched Khuta nurse her newborn son Ardeth.   
  
  
  
Age of Taurus, 2630 BC, Temple of Nuit, late summer, in the deep of night...  
  
  
On the floor of Nuit's Temple, Imhotep was straining to keep the vision in his mind. He smiled to himself as he saw Khuta nursing the newborn Ardeth and heard the lullaby she sang. The same lullaby was used by the Medjai women in Imhotep's time and Imhotep knew that the lullaby's origination had been with Khuta.   
  
Imhotep found himself becoming well versed in hearing the thoughts of those to whom he gave visions. He knew Khuta would protect her son from the pitted scar disease and take him away.   
  
If only the pitted scar disease would go away, Imhotep thought to himself as he deepened his trance.   
  
All of his strength would be needed to help the Restorer of Ma'at.   
  
For Imhotep had discovered that Set was planning a nasty surprise for Ardeth, and Imhotep desperately needed Lostris' help. Strange that he couldn't find Lostris and Taita. 


	7. Chapter Six

CHAPTER SIX  
  
Sand Dune, three hour walk south of Wau en Namus, Southern Libya, September 16, 1940, near dusk...  
  
  
Wind. How he hated the sere desert wind: blowing, hot, gritty. And sand. Sand was everywhere, marching up to the stony mountains in the distance. His very bones were weary of the blowing sand and digging in the hot Saharan sands to unearth the ruins of the Temple of Nuit did nothing to change his opinion about the sand.   
  
The sole benefit of the eternal sand was a beauteous one: the sand dunes hummed. The humming was a source of wonder for Ardeth and he never tired of hearing the humming when the sand cascaded down the side of the dunes in sand avalanches.   
  
Although he was a desert man, Ardeth admitted freely to himself that he could learn to love the ocean were he ever given the opportunity to live along the shores of the Mediterranean. He'd even go for the rainy inland weather of London.   
  
Ardeth gave careful consideration to his current situation. Bit by bit, his eyes took in the geography of the desert vista he stood in, and he compared his current location with the vistas and peoples of the desert that he remembered from his youth. What Ardeth needed to know was where he and Martin were located so he could figure out if, and where, various nomadic tribes passed through the area.   
  
For he and Martin needed water, and soon. A person could survive in the Sahara only one day without water and the abayor he carried would not provide enough water for two men.   
  
Some confederations of the Tuareg, like the Kel Ewey Confederation, run the salt caravans--the tarhalamt--across the varied vistas of the Sahara. The Sahara was not all beige sand--red, rocky sandstone cliffs would rise from the desert floor, and groundwater would feed sky blue lakes.   
  
These vistas Ardeth had seen for himself as a young boy: the rocky rims of the Djado plateau where the sands of the Tenere brush up against the stony Djado; he'd ridden the white riding camels through the searing flat sands of the Tenere to the ancient volcanoes rising from the Tibesti Mountains in Chad.   
  
And he'd seen the beauteous Blue Mountains--the Marble Mountains--in the Tenere. The mountains were made of marble which glowed blue depending on the angle of the sunlight. He'd also travelled the beautiful Red Desert in Libya, to the south of Tripoli, where the sands were a deep blood red and the wind and temperature carved the rock into arches.   
  
His own branch of the Tuareg tribe tended to roam the Sahara to either side of the Nile; the plentiful water that could be siphoned off and keep the Medjai in the vast beige deserts and five oases of Egypt.   
  
The vista which stretched before him was mostly stony desert, with the ever present sand. Ardeth's soul despaired as he realized few nomadic tribes travelled or lived in the area.   
  
Ardeth's thoughts now turned towards the tools they would need for desert survival. The tagelmust he wore on his head and face would provide him, but not Martin, with protection from the sun and sand. The other tool Ardeth carried for desert survival was his abayor to carry water.   
  
Aside from the goat cheese and the sack of onions that Ardeth carried, he and Martin had no source of food. And they had no fire to protect them from nighttime temperature dips of up to 100 degrees from the daytime temperature.   
  
Set had stranded Ardeth and Martin in the desert, with no food, no visible water sources, no protection for the light-skinned Martin from the searing sun, and no protection from a sudden windstorm, should Set be in a capricious mood as the God of Wind and Storms.   
  
The grit had parched Ardeth's throat and he worked his tongue around his mouth to work up moisture. Finding water was encroaching more on Ardeth's thoughts--and with good reason.   
  
Nomads are a resourceful people, and would sometimes leave clay cisterns of water buried under the desert sands as they travelled. Digging the cisterns from the sands reminded Ardeth of the way elephants sometimes dug for water in wadis.   
  
He recalled that along the Skeleton Coast, in Namibia, the temperatures soared over 100 degrees and the khamsin winds blew for weeks on end. Ancient rock drawings attested to the fact that in antiquity, elephants indeed lived along the southwestern desert shore of the African continent. A very young Ardeth had been astounded to see the tracks of the elephants, fresh and recent.   
  
And then he saw the desert elephants: big and beauteous, they were climbing down a sand dune to reach a permanent watering hole. The baby elephant reached the water hole first and dipped up a trunk full of water and sprayed its mother. The sounds of the trumpeting elephants had filled his ears.   
  
There were times when Ardeth had wished those elephants could be transported out of Namibia to Egypt and placed in the Saharan desert. The elephants would dig holes in wadis--dry riverbeds, and hopefully the holes would fill with water.   
  
"Perhaps the elephants would find more accessible watering holes. They will travel for miles to reach the next oasis in the Namibian desert," he thought bitterly as he looked out over sand towards the stony mountains in the distance. He adjusted his tagelmust, and listened as the sand dunes hummed. He continued to scan the horizon carefully.   
  
But even as his soul despaired, Ardeth's dark eyes picked out a long but faint strip of green far to the northwest. Desert people are attracted to any color that is not the color of the sand on which they are travelling--for a line of color in the desert usually means a source of water is nearby--or perhaps a desert settlement. Perhaps the strip of green signified a wadi--a dry riverbed.   
  
Hope flared in his eyes. Although the savannah had dried up six thousand years ago, the riverbeds and underground streams were left behind. Some underground streams fed desert lakes, like the Mandara Lakes in Libya. There, desert palms grow out of the reddish sand dunes, and some trunks of the desert palm are half buried by the ever shifting sands. But the desert palms still live half buried in the sand--their roots are fed by the groundwater.   
  
If there was no human settlement--it was too early in the year for the Kel Ewey Confederation to begin their annual tarhalamt; they started the salt caravan in winter--Ardeth and Martin could replenish their water supply and walk northwards to the sea, and along the way dig into the dry riverbed and hopefully, like the elephants in Namibia, they would find a small supply of water.   
  
But Ardeth's real wish was to find desert succulent plants--the desert water plants with the thick, long, water-filled roots or leaves that the Tuaregs and other nomadic peoples used in times of drought. These plants had evolved to store water in their leaves and roots.   
  
The faint strip of green in the distance could very well be a stand of succulent plants. Ardeth didn't think they should take the time to dig into the wadi to find water.   
  
And in any event, the two men didn't have the necessary tools to dig into the wadi.   
  
Ardeth silently cursed the Dark One but he could only guess by the desert where he was, and where the next city would be located. Ardeth thought they were probably in Libya, judging from the stony desert vista which stretched out before him, and their only hope was that Nuit would be able to overpower her wayward son and send the rains which were so infrequent to the Sahara.   
  
Unlike the Cholistan Desert in Pakistan, which had monsoon rains most years, the rains came to the Sahara only a few times every hundred years. The Sahara is a tropical desert and the scant Saharan rains simultaneously caused devastation and created miracles. The rains poured from Nuit's belly with such force that anything living that was walking in the dry riverbeds would be killed in the churning flood as the water wended its way to the sea.   
  
But even as the rains caused death, birth was inevitable. Seeds which had lain dormant for decades would bloom within a few days of the rains. Vast fields of yellow ericas, blue gladiolus and scarlet lillies would greet tired eyes. Soft green grasses would grow alongside the dry riverbanks, waving their green tendrils in the softened breeze.   
  
For a while, a small part of the desert would be transformed into the grassy savannah of six thousand years ago.   
  
And then, as always, the relentless Saharan heat and sun would take their toll and once again the desert would be littered with the dried stalks of flowers, the carapaces of insects and here and there the bleaching skeleton of an unfortunate four legged animal--or man--which had both strayed from its brethren and had stayed too long in the brief respite from the blowing sand.   
  
Ardeth would not be able to see the desert bloom, for he and Martin would have to be in the wadi, waiting for the rains Ardeth hoped Nuit would send--and send soon.   
  
Their journey down the suddenly full wadi to the sea would be brief, and wet. Hopefully, both of the men would live, but if push came to shove, Ardeth gave a prayer that if the Gods had to choose one to die, that it would be Martin. There was no malice in this thought, but Ardeth was needed in London, to help repel the Nazi bomber planes which he knew were even now bombing London--and the O'Connell's--day and night.   
  
In his dreams, Ardeth could hear the anguished cries of the dead as they were taken by the Gods, and he could also hear their gasps when the souls entered the Crossroads of Time. His relief came from knowing that each soul taken in the daily bombing of London was granted eternal life.   
  
It was their cries as each person was killed by the bombs and taken by the Gods which rent Ardeth's own soul to shreds. He knew he had to hurry.   
  
Ardeth walked slowly down the side of the sand dune. When he was near the bottom, he deliberately twisted his ankle and created a small sand avalanche. Obediently, the dune he was walking down began to hum. Ardeth smiled despite himself.   
  
The sun was just setting and the desert sky was ablaze with brilliant reds and oranges. Soon, the colors would fade to indigo blue and Nuit's Daughters would appear.   
  
He walked back to the downed plane.   
  
"So? Where are we?" Martin inquired.   
  
"We are probably near the Djado Plateau, on the southern border of Libya and the northern border of Niger. The desert around Djado is stony and sand meets the stone. We will have to leave the plane. It can be replaced."   
  
"What do we do now?" Martin now asked. He wasn't concerned about leaving the plane and it showed in his face.   
  
"We walk," Ardeth said as he took up the small sack of onions, the water canteen and the hunk of cheese still wrapped in linen.   
  
The two men set off across the deepening twilight of the desert, towards the wadi where Ardeth hoped to find water--and a passage to the sea.   
  
  
  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Three hours later, a tired and thirsty pair of men reached the shores of the wadi that Ardeth had noted earlier.   
  
Except it was not only a wadi that Ardeth had noted earlier--they were at Wau en Namus, an ancient volcano which erupted and in its crater a younger volcano had formed. Groundwater formed the lakes which glimmered in the moonlight. Half buried desert palms swayed their fronds in the gentle night wind.   
  
"Wau en Namus," Ardeth said. "We are in southern Libya, just north of the Tibesti mountains. Amongst his other titles, Set is the God of Foreign Lands and placing us in Libya would be his idea of a joke."   
  
"Up to his old tricks again. He already gave us the sandstorm as was his right as the God of Wind and Storms," Martin observed. "Tripoli. We go north to Tripoli?" Martin asked, hoping his geography was correct.   
  
"Northwest, yes," Ardeth said. "We start following the wadi." He indicated the way with his hand. The two men walked to the edge of the freshwater lake, Ardeth removing his tagelmust as he walked. The two men knelt at the edge of the lake, and cupping their hands, drank deeply of the fresh water.   
  
During the trek to Wau en Namus, Ardeth remembered the terrible dream in which the pyramids had exploded, and hot bile had risen repeatedly in his throat as he recalled the sounds of the millions of souls who would enter the Afterlife unwillingly at the hands of Set's follower.   
  
Ardeth drank long and deep.   
  
After slaking his thirst, Martin asked, "Um, do we walk all the way?"   
  
Ardeth considered his answer. Martin had a right to know, and he was Keeper of the Bracelet of Lostris. And Lostris was a Daughter of the Waters. He hoped Martin would be able to call upon Lostris's power and have her help them with safe passage down the wadi.   
  
"I am hoping Nuit will send a rainstorm which will fill the wadi and give us passage to the sea," he replied as he continued to drink the water. "So fresh, so good!" he told himself.   
  
"I will call on Lostris to assist us," Martin said without hesitation and without a hint of fear in his voice. "She will grant us safe passage down the temporary river."   
  
"I am hoping so," Ardeth replied. He stood up and he fell silent as he walked towards the vegetation.   
  
The Daughters of Nuit were shining tonight and the light of the moon helped Ardeth to recognize the shape of the scraggly line of green plants. The date palms swayed in the light breeze.   
  
"Succulent plants. The Gods have been kind. Even with the lake water, we would need to have a supply of water for the trek north," Ardeth said as he gently pulled up one of the desert succulents, making sure he didn't tear the roots. Shaking off the sand, Ardeth bit down on the succulent root, and was rewarded with the sweet taste of water.   
  
"We have all the water we need here," Martin said. Ardeth looked at him. In response, Martin blinked. "I was a city dweller in my past life, and in this one," he said.   
  
"We need succulent plants to get water for the trek to the sea," Ardeth replied as he gently pulled up more of the desert plants.   
  
Understanding dawned in Martin's eyes. "I wasn't thinking. Are there any nomads in the area?" he asked as he began to gently pull up the succulent plants.   
  
"Wau en Namus is just north of the Tibesti Mountains. We are north of Chad and the Toubou who inhabit the Tibesti. We are also too far north for the Kel Ewey Confederation, for they cross the Tenere, not the mountains."   
  
"So we are stranded, more or less?"   
  
"Yes. Until Nuit sends the rains. But we must continue our journey by walking in the wadi," Ardeth replied.   
  
The chilly evening spoke of autumn in the desert and Nuit's Daughters gazed down upon their Brother and his friend pulling up plants from along the shores of the volcanic desert lake. Wind ruffled Ardeth's hair.   
  
When they were done collecting the plants, Ardeth placed them in his tagelmust until the fabric strained. He twisted the top of the tagelmust and knotted it closed. He left his tagelmust on the ground.   
  
He next took out a leather pouch from beneath his black robe. He walked over to a date palm and proceeded to collect as many dates as the pouch would hold. Seeing Ardeth eating, Martin walked over and the two men ate their fill of dates.   
  
Martin swallowed his mouthful and asked, "What else are we going to be able to eat in the desert?"   
  
"Fig trees grow wild in Libya and rattlesnake makes a good meal when cooked over an open fire," Ardeth replied.   
  
"My Son. Hurry!" Nuit's voice echoed in Ardeth's mind. "We must leave now," he told Martin, who was stuffing a handful of dates into his mouth.   
  
"Pmmmmppf!" Martin responded, bits of chewed date spewing from the corners of his stuffed mouth.   
  
Ardeth walked back to where he'd lain his tagelmust down, picked it up and slung it over his shoulder. He motioned to Martin and the two men started walking in the wadi, headed northwest.   
  
Neither noticed the dark clouds gathering in the shape of an angry face in the sky behind them as soon as they turned their backs and headed northwest to the Mediterranean 


	8. Chapter Seven

CHAPTER SEVEN  
  
Wadi Bey el Kebir, Mid-Morning of September 17, 1940...  
  
  
"Were you able to ask Lostris for help?" Ardeth asked a bleary-eyed Martin. The two men had spent an arduous night walking in the wadi, stopping only for a few hours to sleep briefly.   
  
They'd taken turns keeping watch while the other slept for an hour. Countless emperor scorpions, busy with their night work, had scuttled to and fro across the wadi, causing Ardeth some concern. The sting of the scorpion could paralyze an arm or leg for days but the Sahara would claim their lives well before the poison could wear off.   
  
"Yes. I was able to make contact with her and she has agreed to help," Martin replied, eyeing a slow moving emperor scorpion near his foot. "I thought the scorpions dug themselves into the sand during the day," he finished.   
  
"Normally, they do dig into the sand. That one is dead," Ardeth noted drily, nodding his head at the emperor scorpion at Martin's feet.   
  
Martin lifted up his leg and brought his boot down onto the scorpion's shell. Obediently, the shell cracked.   
  
"A feast fit for an emperor!" Martin chided no one in particular, adjusting Ardeth's tagelmust around his eyes.   
  
A worry line appeared on Ardeth's brow and he glanced sideways at Martin. Rambling and muttering incoherently were early signs of heat exhaustion, and the late summer day promised another scorcher.   
  
Ardeth remembered the town of Al-Aziziyah near the Mediterranean had recorded a world record temperature of 136 degrees Fahrenheit, on another late summer day: September 13, 1922. This morning's temperature seemed no less hot. The sky above was a deep blue: there were no signs of Nuit sending the rains to help them down the wadi towards Tripoli.   
  
He reached into the sack he'd made from ripping off a swath of cloth from his robe when he'd lent Martin the tagelmust. Pulling out a root from the desert succulent plant, he handed it to Martin.   
  
"Here, my friend. You need to drink the entire root," he said. Martin looked at Ardeth, distracted for a moment, then he nodded and accepted the proffered root. Drinking the water the thick root held, Martin's eyes cleared.   
  
"Thank you, Ardeth. I think the desert is trying to claim me," he told Ardeth before draining the root dry.   
  
"You're welcome. And you are not the only one the desert is trying to claim," Ardeth replied, pointing to the dead carcass of a camel on top of the wadi's bank. "Camel?" Ardeth asked aloud. Climbing up the steep bank of the wadi, he scanned the horizon for signs of nomads.   
  
"Are they there?" Martin called up, excited hope in his voice, knowing that camels might mean nomads were camping nearby. Camels could easily walk fifty miles in one day.   
  
Ardeth looked down at Martin, and shook his head. "No."   
  
"Damn," Martin said.   
  
"The nomads have been gone for a while. This camel wandered off." Ardeth bent down to examine the carcass. The camel's skin was dried to tough leather. "She's been dead for several days," Ardeth said.   
  
"She?"   
  
"She," Ardeth confirmed and stood up. "She was nursing a young one." He climbed back down the bank of the wadi. "Come, we must make more time before we rest in the heat of the day," he told Martin.   
  
The two men started to turn and Ardeth happened to glance to his right. A sharp intake of breath alerted Martin that something was wrong. He too, turned, and sucked his breath in sharply at the sight of the roiling black clouds filling the sky. Rumbling was heard in the distance, rumbling that sounded like laughter.   
  
"Seth," Ardeth muttered under his breath.   
  
"Again?" Martin asked, his eyes fixed on the black cloud.   
  
Pulling out the Bracelet from the leather pouch, Ardeth slipped the Bracelet onto his right wrist. He stood tall, and Martin spread his arms and called out, "Lostris, Daughter of the Waters, we have need of your help!"   
  
The emeralds in the Bracelet began to burn a brighter shade of green and Ardeth felt a power begin to emanate up his arm from the Bracelet. The rumbling grew louder until a gravelly male voice could be heard: "You will fail, Daughter of the Waters! They shall die under the waters and their souls lost for all time!"   
  
"Not this time, Dark One. It was I who kept you at bay last night and you shall not harm them today," another male voice interjected.   
  
"Imhotep!" Ardeth exclaimed.   
  
Seth's voice echoed Ardeth. "Imhotep," he snarled. The clouds gathered themselves into the angry face of Seth.   
  
"I have come to assist the Daughter of the Waters. You will be safe. I have seen this much, Ardeth Bey," Imhotep replied as a sharp cry sounded--a female's voice in pain. The belly of Nuit opened and a torrent of rain poured down into the wadi. Instantly, the wadi flooded and the two men raised their arms, trying to shield themselves from the huge tsunami that bore down upon them.   
  
"My son," Nuit's voice, weak, started to say but her words were cut off by Seth.   
  
"My brother shall die!" Seth roared, laughing as he fought with his mother, draining her belly of water.   
  
"You shall be safe. I have cleared the waters around you and you shall be able to breathe," Lostris said, her melodious voice filling Ardeth's ears. And Ardeth hoped that her words were true.   
  
"Pharaoh Tamose, lend me your power as a God-King of Egypt," she said. A golden light flashed, and instead of being engulfed in the tsunami, the two travelers found themselves swimming effortlessly and time seemed to slow. Seth's laughter died down, and disappeared entirely.   
  
In his mind, Ardeth saw himself as a newborn, his skin still damp from the womb waters. He smiled. His mother was singing a lullaby as she nursed him, a lock of her hair brushing his cheek. Her long fingers stroked his thick dark hair--"unusual for a baby to have a full head of hair at birth," he thought.   
  
"Her name is Khuta, Ardeth Bey. She is your remote grandmother and she named her son Ardeth," Imhotep's voice said, startling Ardeth.   
  
"Ardeth is an unusual name. My grandmothers told me my name has not been used since the time before the 17th Dynasty, according to the scrolls the scribe keeps," he told Imhotep.   
  
"Your scribe is correct. Khuta wanted a new name in honor of a new place to live. Are you displeased with her choice?"   
  
"Not at all," Ardeth replied softly. In his vision, Khuta looked up, and her eyes grew wide in surprise. She stopped singing and whispered, "Ardeth, my son." Ardeth wasn't surprised to see the scars on her face; to him, Khuta was made more beautiful by her disfigurement.   
  
The vision faded and Ardeth heard Martin say "And I love you, Mummy," and Ardeth knew that Imhotep had give Martin his own vision.   
  
Lostris and Imhotep spoke together, their voices blending well. "We have placed you as near the shore as we can and you are a half a day's hike from the Great Green." A contralto male voice joined in--Pharaoh Tamose, Ardeth suspected--"We can not hold Seth back much longer. The Gods of Egypt are watching over you," the voices faded out as the rain stopped suddenly and the sky cleared to a bright enamel blue. The water in the wadi receded just as suddenly, leaving drying puddles in the deep riverbed.   
  
Ardeth now found himself face down in a fast-drying puddle of water. He got up, wiping water from his face, and looked for Martin. Martin was already standing, looking around. He was shaking his head, trying to clear his ears of water.   
  
"Did I hear them correctly? That we are only a half a day's desert hike from Tripoli?" Martin asked, his voice soft, full of wonder that he was able to swim in the raging water, and full of wonder that he'd been able to talk to his mother.   
  
Ardeth nodded, and replied just as softly. "The Gods always protect when they can. A half a day's hike is not so bad." He looked at Martin. "Did you find your mother?" knowing Martin had never known his mother in this life, for she had died soon after his birth.   
  
Martin nodded, the tagelmust already half dry in the searing heat. Ardeth shaded his eyes and looked at the sun, judging the time. "Then come, let us go. We shall be in Tripoli by nightfall," he told Martin. "We no longer have our supplies of food and water, so we shall have to hurry," he finished.   
  
Far ahead in the distance, the Mediterranean sea glinted green, beckoning the two travelers.   
  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
  
INTERMISSION I  
  
  
It's night   
  
All is calm   
The birds   
Still send   
Some cries   
to their comrades and   
To the sun   
  
Night has come   
Like a curtain that is drawn   
Slowly, slowly.   
  
Night is born   
Words on a black cloud   
  
Here is the moon   
  
And in the rooms   
They sleep with glimpses   
Of dreams in their eyes   
  
  
--Fanny Ben-Aris, age 9 (concentration camp inmate, displayed at Yad Vashem, Museum of the Holocaust, Jerusalem)   
  
to be continued in Book Two: The Liberation of London 


	9. Chapter Eight

CHAPTER EIGHT  
  
Carnahan O'Connell estate, September 17, 1940, early morning   
  
  
"Arrdddeth!" Evie screamed and suddenly threw off the coverlet of the bed she and Rick were sharing. The Luftwaffe, created just four years ago, had proven quite efficient in their daily (and nightly) bombings of London.   
  
"Honey! What's wrong with Ardeth?" Rick asked, sitting up and putting his arms around his wife.   
  
In a shaking voice, Evie replied, "It's Seth's dream again. He's telling me he's drowned Ardeth! Rick! What shall we do?"   
  
"Shhhh. I sent Ardeth a telegram. He'll be all right."   
  
"No. I don't think he'll be all right," Evie retorted. "Seth is dangerous!"   
  
"Why won't he be all right?"   
  
"His lips were blue," Evie replied definitively.   
  
"Evie, you're reading too much into Seth's dreams. Ardeth is all right. I can't explain it, but somehow I know he's all right," Rick said, pulling his wife down onto the bed so he could hug her to him.   
  
But Evie sat up and threw off the covers. "We're awake, we might as well get up," she said petulantly. She was feeling miffed at being used by Seth.   
  
"Ardeth will be all right. This is Ardeth we're talking about," Rick said definitively. "And you're right," he said, his voice softening, "we might as well get up. We've got a lot of people to help feed. Damn the Luftwaffe for taking out sixteen stations and three rail lines."   
  
"Mummy? Daddy?" Alex's voice called faintly. "I've found a huge store of sugar, tea, flour, rice, oatmeal, biscuits, tinned meat, you name it!"   
  
"Huh?" Rick and Evie said to each other simultaneously. "What was that Alex?" Rick shouted.   
  
"Food!" came back the reply.   
  
Tears burned hotly in Evie's eyes. "Seems like Tallulah stored up some things before she," Evie started to say, but she couldn't finish her sentence.   
  
"She was helping to save others, Evie, by donating blood. I'm sure she found her way to the Afterlife," Rick gently told his wife. Tallulah, their housemaid, could not bear to stand by and watch the bombings daily with all the wounded. She had been an ambulance driver in France during the first World War and she had immediately organized a blood drive, considering it her patriotic duty.   
  
The thirty eight year old Tallulah had been killed by shrapnel two days previously on her way to the Red Cross center. She'd died instantly. Rick was going to miss her terribly; she had been, simply put, a most efficient maid.   
  
"It's not fair!" Evie protested, falling into Rick's arms.   
  
"Sweetheart, it's impossible for all of us to stay on the estate all the time," he told her gently.   
  
"I know! I just wish Ardeth would arrive. He would know what to do!"   
  
Rick held his wife, stroking her dark curly hair, and soon Evie's sobs quieted.   
  
  
  
______________________________________________  
Tripoli, Souk (marketplace), September 17, dusk   
  
  
Sunburned, tired, thirsty and hungry were four adjectives Martin and Ardeth were willing to use as they straggled into the outskirts of the sea city of Tripoli. The sights and especially the smells of the souks were welcoming.   
  
The two men fell hungrily upon the first food stall they could find. Libya had, in times past, been invaded and occupied by Italy. Although the Libyans didn't take kindly to the invading Italians, Italian food was well loved by the Libyans, and the smells of lasagna and spaghetti filled Ardeth's and Martin's senses.   
  
"Masa' al-kheir. Salaam aleikum. Do you speak English?" a young male voice said behind them.   
  
Ardeth and Martin turned. "Aleikum as-salaam," Ardeth responded. "Yes, I speak English."   
  
Martin said, "And I am English. From London."   
  
The teenager nodded. "My name is Achmed. I am going to go to Oxford University and I wish to practice my English. It is very strange but everyone I meet who is from England, they are from London."   
  
Martin laughed. "Yes. It does seem that way doesn't it?"   
  
Ardeth cut in, "Do you work here? We would like to order a meal."   
  
"Yes. This is my father's cafe. If you wish to bathe and change, there are showers behind that door. My father is very devout and likes cleanliness. So he provides these things to our customers in case they wish to be as clean as he does. You," he indicated Martin, "will need sunburn cream. I will ask my sister for some."   
  
"Thank you, Achmed." The two men went to shower and change. Martin came out of the shower to find a large jar of sunburn cream, which he applied liberally before changing into a fresh set of clothing provided by Achmed.   
  
Ardeth had changed into a pair of white cotton pants and a turquoise tunic. He noticed Martin looking at his new set of clothes. "I know," was all Ardeth said. "I will have my own clothes cleaned."   
  
Martin nodded as the two men went back through the door into the small outdoor cafe. A table was set for them already, with bowls of couscous, vegetables, meat, spaghetti. Most importantly on the table were large pitchers of cold water, although both Martin and Ardeth had drunk water from the sink faucet.   
  
Achmed was standing beside the table, smiling, his white teeth gleaming in the encroaching dusk. "I had thought you two would be more than a bit hungry, so I laid out your dinner."   
  
"Shukran. Thank you," Ardeth said, sitting down.   
  
"Yes, thank you," Martin said as he too sat down to enjoy the meal Achmed had provided for them.   
  
  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
The Underworld, Sometime in Eternity (scuttlebutt has the date near late September 1940)   
  
  
Pain seared his soul. He'd lost count of the times the demons devoured him. Demons in the underworld didn't consume souls just once--the underworld was eternity and when he'd dived into the underworld, he'd known what would happen: time would slow and astrological ages would march on but time would seem to stand still for him.   
  
Welcome to the underworld.   
  
Eventually, he too would transform into a demon and would shove other demons aside in his zeal to reach the new arrivals first.   
  
A dim light burned his eyes. The pain of the demons' knashing teeth lessened and then disappeared entirely.   
  
That action was unusual enough to cause him to raise his head towards the dim light. He saw a gaping hole with a golden shimmering light and the threads of his memory recalled that the golden light represented Nuit.   
  
What catastrophe had happened for an Egyptian god to throw a soul directly into the underworld? The Gods usually did not accompany doomed souls to the underworld--they preferred to let souls be weighed against Ma'at and let the doomed soul be devoured by Ammit, the crocodile headed monster.   
  
Then the soul would face the demons alone. For eternity.   
  
Despite the plagues he'd imposed upon her (she had risen from plagues before), despite his previous transgressions, he cared deeply about his beloved Egypt--his desert home--and he would do anything to ensure she survived.   
  
He stood up as best he could. He straightened his loincloth and went to interrogate the new arrival. 


	10. Chapter Nine

CHAPTER NINE  
  
Lands End, Cornwall (Southwestern England), late September, The Grayson Pub   
  
  
Blonde David Dunlop shaded his blue eyes with his pudgy four year old hand. He was standing near Zawn Reeth, a gully forming part of the seaside cliffs which surrounded his home. His mother was forever explaining to him that he needed to be careful around Zawn Reeth, for the gully wended its way down the cliff to the sea.   
  
Right now, David was in what his mother called a pickle. He had borrowed, unbeknownst to his mother, the handheld telescope that his father owned. David was tall for his age (at 24 months, he'd stood 40 inches tall and his American born mother was proud of telling him he would stand about six foot six as an adult).   
  
Now, looking through the purloined telescope, David thought he saw somebody out on Wolf Rock, where a lighthouse had been built last century because the sailors hated the rock with a vegeance. He also thought he heard a humming sound but that might have been the wind. He knew Wolf Rock had been named because when the wind blew around the rock formation, the resulting noise was said to sound like wolves howling.   
  
David knew the sailors hated Wolf Rock, because his daddy ran a pub and the sailors who came in were always talking about Wolf Rock and the deep waters which surrounded it. The rock was especially dangerous with storm surges and sometimes his mummy had to take David into the back room because she said the sailors' language got too bad for his ears ("little pitchers have big ears" was the phrase his mum used).   
  
He wasn't sure if he saw somebody on Wolf Rock--he was only four, and at four, he wasn't too sure about most things. And besides, Wolf Rock was almost thirteen kilometers out to sea and at four, he knew thirteen kilometers out to sea was a long way out. But the Wolf Rock Lighthouse was white, and the rocks were brown, and David thought he saw a big something black lying on top of the rocks, right next to the lighthouse.   
  
And David had been out to Wolf Rock and the Scilly Isles dozens of times in his short life, and he knew that the big something black was assuredly not a puffin.   
  
He shivered and realized there were four things he was sure of: he was hungry, he was cold, the storm surge tide was coming in and when his mum found out he'd purloined the telescope, David would be in trouble.   
  
He knew he could easily rectify two of those things simply by going into the pub and asking his mum for something to eat. The fire would warm him.   
  
But he couldn't do anything about the tide. He would have to brave the punishment coming to him for taking the telescope; he had been told not to take the telescope.   
  
David decided to keep his vigil on Zawn Reeth for a while longer. He was trying to decide if there really was somebody--somebody dressed in black--on Wolf Rock. He kept up his vigil because as he had noted a moment before, the tide was coming in, and the sailors always said that the tide and Wolf Rock created a bitch.   
  
He didn't know what a bitch was, but he knew that the somebody who was on Wolf Rock would be in a real pickle soon, as his mummy said. By now, he was quite sure there was somebody on the Wolf Rock. There had to be somebody there, for as he had reasoned earlier, the lighthouse was white, the rocks brown, and there was a large black object lying on top of the rock, near the lighthouse.   
  
David's father Daniel kept a boat, which sometimes carried people out to the Scilly Isles if the people had missed the ferry from Penzance. David often went along on these trips, having taken to the sea from a very early age.   
  
Daniel also went on rescue missions out to Wolf Rock, for many a ship had been wrecked in the deep, treacherous water and at times there were survivors. Being the closest sailor to Wolf Rock, Daniel would be the first to reach the survivors and bring them back to the Grayson Pub.   
  
David's blue eyes through the telescope saw a gull circling Wolf Rock then glide down to land near the black someone that David was now sure he saw through the purloined telescope.   
  
He made his decision. "Muuummmmyyy!" he called as he turned around and ran as fast as his four year old legs could carry him to the pub.   
  
"Mummy! Mummy! Come quick! Somebody's out on Wolf Rock!" he called as he ran into the pub. The lone sailor and customer in the pub turned and watched David with interest.   
  
His mother, a petite woman but strong willed and a female version of her son, answered, "What's that, sweetie?" as she looked up from behind the pub's counter.   
  
"Mummy! Somebody's out on Wolf Rock! And the tide's coming in!"   
  
"David, you took the telescope didn't you?" She held out her hand for the telescope. David surrendered it.   
  
"Yes, mummy, but," but his mother stopped him.   
  
"We'll talk punishment later, young man. There's no one out on Wolf Rock, David," she finished firmly.   
  
"But there is, mummy! I saw him!"   
  
"How do you know it's a him?" his mother asked drily, pouring half a cup of tea and filling the rest of the cup with milk. "Here, sweetie. You're cold. Sit down and drink your tea."   
  
"No! Somebody's out on Wolf Rock!" David protested but his mother had taken him by the hand, quite firmly, and led David to a small table in the far corner. This was David's usual table. He screwed up his face to cry but his mother stopped him.   
  
"Stop snivelling, David. It's just your imagination. Wolf Rock is nearly thirteen kilometers out to sea."   
  
"But mummy!"   
  
"No protestations from you, young man!"   
  
"But," and David was again cut off by his mother.   
  
"One more word out of you, and your punishment will be doubled!" she said firmly, shaking her forefinger at David.   
  
David didn't say anything but tears filled his big blue eyes. His mother helped him into the chair and went back to get his cup of tea. She brought it and set it down in front of him then went back behind the counter.   
  
The sailor spoke softly to his mother. "It wouldn't hurt to take a look, ma'am." He was American, like herself, Martha thought. "The tide is coming in, and that rock's a bitch."   
  
Martha started to open her mouth, then she shut it. It was no use trying to teach men to not speak like that in front of David. "Don't have the time to go out." she said by way of refusal.   
  
"I'll be willing to take the boat out and look. I know how to sail at night. Just leave a light on," the sailor said, gathering up his things. "We sailors look out for each other and if your boy's word is true, well then, we'll have saved a life. Too much life being lost as it is, ma'am."   
  
Martha looked at him. He really was going to take a boat out to Wolf Rock. And all because her highly imaginative little boy had said he'd seen somebody through the purloined telescope. But on the other hand, with the war, business had dropped off. Saving a life was a good thing and the sailor was correct: too much life had been taken already.   
  
"All right. Boat's down Zawn Reeth."   
  
"Thank you, ma'am," the sailor said, putting on a thick pea jacket, and going out the door.   
  
"Yeaaaa!" David said. "Can I go along, mummy? Please?" he was jumping up and down, forgetting he was to be punished for taking the telescope. He was wearing his pea jacket as if he'd been expecting to go along. When had he changed into his pea jacket? Martha wondered.   
  
"Please? I've been out on the boat before," David tried to entreat his mother with his huge blue eyes. "Sometimes we take people out near Wolf Rock to get their picture taken," he finished.   
  
"Caught in a pickle, aren't I, David?" Martha said, smiling and forgetting David's transgression.   
  
Her four year old son was correct: at times, especially near sunset, some people wanted to go to Wolf Rock and have their pictures taken as the sun was sinking on the horizon. The storm surge was coming in and if his story was true, then anyone on Wolf Rock wouldn't survive the night.   
  
"Mummy! We have to hurry!"   
  
She looked at her son, still jumping up and down. "All right, you can go," but David was out the pub's door by the time she finished her sentence.   
  
"Fast, that one," she said. Walking to the door, she looked out. The wind was cooling rapidly and the sun was just touching the horizon. She shaded her eyes, and looked towards Wolf Rock.   
  
The sailor had unmoored the boat. He helped David get in and then he set the boat off. David turned and waved at his mother standing on the cliff.   
  
Martha went back into the pub. If David's story was true, then the man would be chilled to the bone and needing hot tea and food. She put on a pot of stew, took out a large potato from the oven. Thinking it over, she took out another large potato. Then she put on another pot of water to boil for tea.   
  
As the food was warming, she went upstairs to the second floor. She and her husband's pub, like many in England, also functioned as a very small hotel and The Grayson Pub had six rooms to let. Walking into the biggest room, she drew a hot bath and put out a couple of thick towels.   
  
The bath was drawn, steaming hot, when she'd finished laying out the towels and turning down the bedding. She went back downstairs to wait. A little preparedness never hurt.   
  
  
_____________________________________  
  
Wolf Rock Lighthouse, along the ferry route to St Mary's in the Scilly Islands, nearest to Land's End, Cornwall, late September, 1940   
  
  
The waves from the English Channel met the brine of the Atlantic Ocean. Water swelled up to a height of three feet and rushed towards the shore on the horizon. Although the warming Gulf Stream passed Land's End about fifty five kilometers offshore to the west, the late September water temperature was bitterly cold.   
  
The deep water met the steep side of the rock and sprayed the black clad man sprawled facedown on the rock. His arms were crossed over each other and his head rested on top of his left hand.   
  
A gull circling overhead landed near the body and squawked a greeting, hoping for a handout. He was hungry and many times in the summer the tall two legged humans had fed it when he'd called a greeting to them. The man didn't move, and he didn't blink an eye when the water washed up around his face.   
  
The gull cocked its head sideways when it heard a humming sound and a soft voice speaking in a language the gull could almost understand. But the words were too faint to it to understand what was being said, so the gull concentrated its attention on the human.   
  
It was an unusual sight to see a human unresponsive, for usually humans don't lie face down near a waterline, especially with a storm surge. The gull thought that perhaps the human was sleeping and needed something to wake it up, so he hopped a few hops and landed on the human's back, near the human's upturned ear. The gull cried loudly.   
  
And then it watched the human for a response.   
  
  
  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Beachfront home near Lizard Point, Cornwall, late September 1940   
  
  
  
"You alive?" the voice said rather loudly. Martin moaned and tried to cover his ears.   
  
"Easy," the voice said, softer now. "'Ow you feeling?"   
  
Martin tried to sit up but failed. "I. I. Don't know. Feeling bad."   
  
"I would say so. You got a deep cut across your fore'ead. I stitched it up right tight and you'll be fine once you get a cuppa in you," the voice said. Martin's head cleared and he saw the owner and gender of the voice: a woman in her early forties was tending a teapot on the stove.   
  
"You're English. Like me," she said. "Tea will be up in a few minutes. I've done up some toast as well. Don't think you're up to a Cornish tea with all that water that came from your stomach," she finished, and took the teapot off the low gas flame. Throwing a handful of into the pot, she set it in a tea caddy.   
  
"No. I don't think I can handle a Cornish cream tea. Toast will do just fine. I swallowed a lot of sea water," Martin replied.   
  
"Aye, bad storm out there. Just swept down all of a sudden. But that's English weather. What do you know? I forgot to introduce myself. "Ida Dunham."   
  
"Martin Wilkes. From London."   
  
Ida sucked in her breath. "London's 'ad a difficult time these past weeks. Thousands dead. Sixteen London rail stations and three rail lines knocked out of service though I 'eard through the grapevine that Puffing Billy's still up and running," she chattered as she fixed Martin's cup of tea. "Out here, we like to walk."   
  
Martin paled. "There's no train service to London?" How were he and Ardeth supposed to get to London? "Ardeth! Where's Ardeth!"   
  
"Calm down, lad. Who's Ardeth?"   
  
"He's the man I was on the boat with. Where is he?" Panic flooded Martin's stomach and twisted it. Hot bile rose up in Martin's throat and he automatically rolled over on his side, opened his mouth and out poured a thick, long stream of water.   
  
"That should make you feel better," Ida remarked as she took a thick rag, dropped it onto the water. Martin and Ida watched the rag soak up the water, and Ida picked the rag up, walked over and dropped it into her washing bin.   
  
Martin lay back on the pillow. "I need to find Ardeth."   
  
"What's e' look like?"   
  
"Tall man, dressed all in black."   
  
Ida tsked. "No one else washed up on the shore out there. You were the only one. Perhaps he washed ashore somewhere else. I can work the phone for you later and call round." She handed Martin a cup of tea. "It's brewed weak so you don't upchuck it," she said.   
  
Martin paled but he accepted the tea. "Thank you. I would like to know if he's been washed ashore."   
  
He leaned back against the fluffy pillow and sipped his tea. Although he was distressed, he didn't think Ardeth had died. Martin thought he felt a thrumming that connected his and Ardeth's souls and Martin thought the ceremony to transfer the Bracelet of Lostris from himself to Ardeth had bonded their souls.   
  
He had had confidence in the Daughter of the Waters and true to her name, she had guided the two men down the suddenly full wadi, depositing them only half a day's hike from Tripoli. He was still awed by his talk with his deceased mother; and he vowed to make an offering to the God Imhotep, who had arranged the meeting.   
  
During their half a day's journey to Tripoli, Martin had both been badly sunburned and had been awed at the majestic red sandstone of the Hamadah al-Hamra--the Red Desert. When the two travelers had reached the Tripoli souks near dusk, the stall owners were already weaving stories about the extreme temperature.   
  
In Wau en Namus, Ardeth had loaned him the black robe and Ardeth's own skin had deepened to a bronze tone which brought out the blue tattoos on Ardeth's face. The wild fig trees that Ardeth had promised grew in the Libyan desert provided a meal and a few scattered desert succulent plants had provided their scant--but life sustaining--supply of water until they reached Tripoli and the souks, the outdoor markets where the two men could buy food and water.   
  
Now Martin had seen enough water to last him two more lifetimes. As he sipped the hot tea laced liberally with sugar, he could sense the thrumming from the Bracelet. The two things he had to figure out were how to get to London and where to find Ardeth.   
  
  
  
  
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Wolf Rock, along the Penzance ferry route to St Mary's, Scilly Islands, nearest to Land's End, Cornwall, late September, 1940   
  
  
The prone man was unresponsive to his calls. Thinking the nonresponsiveness strange, the gull fluffed his feathers out then hunched his head closer to his shoulders as if the posture would enable him to think better.   
  
He wondered what to do. His flock-mates had deserted their home stretch of the beach, so he was alone. After the storm, he'd decided to practice flying and had chosen to fly to the rock formation some ways from the shore. He was a young gull--hatched just that spring--and he wasn't at all sure how to handle this situation.   
  
The juvenile gull studied the man. He thought he detected the skin around the two holes flapping ever so slightly. He walked closer to the man's face for a better look. Was the man breathing? Is that how they breathed--with those two holes in the soft beak? He thought for a moment. He himself breathed through two holes at the top of his beak, at least that's what his flock-mates told him during their noisy playtime.   
  
He flipped his head a few times. Making his decision, he slowly stretched his neck until his beak nearly touched the man's soft beak. He opened his own beak then bit down firmly.   
  
"Yeeeeeooowwwwww!" the man suddenly responded, opening his eyes and raising his hand to bat at the air around his nose. His actions startled the gull, who squawked and skip-hopped a few steps backward, then jumped to the rock beside the man.   
  
He ruffled his feathers but he'd accomplished his objective of seeing if the man was alive, and the gull was feeling a flush of pride.   
  
The man sat up and shook his head. He looked at the gull. "Was that you who bit me? I'm afraid I'm not very tasty. Sorry." He looked around, seeing nothing but water and the lighthouse behind him. The lighthouse didn't appear to offer much shelter, which, in Ardeth's opinion, was not a good omen.   
  
The gull called a greeting and the man smiled. "Sorry. I don't have any food. I bet that's what you're after, isn't it? I would offer something if I were home, for the Tuareg welcome visitors with aragaiga. That's green tea to you, young fellow! But it seems that I appear to be stranded."   
  
The gull squawked and flew upwards into the air. He circled twice around the lighthouse and then headed back towards land.   
  
Ardeth's eyes followed the gull, and then noticed a pale white smudge heading towards him. "Help, just when I need help, it arrives. Thank the Gods," Ardeth said aloud, smiling, pulling his wet robe around him. The Tuareg wove their robes with care for at times the Saharan weather could be capricious and the nighttimes temperatures would sometimes dip to well below freezing.   
  
Standing with his face towards the chilly winds as he waited for the ghostly smudge of a boat to reach the rock, Ardeth wondered how long he'd lain insensate. His muscles ached from a long swim, and he remembered fighting the swelling seas in his attempt to reach the white lighthouse he'd somehow known was standing on the outcrop of rock.   
  
He dimly remembered trying to scale the sides of the cliff he was standing on and he remembered he kept falling. Undoubtedly he would be bruised but he didn't stop to think about any injuries now.   
  
Ardeth reached under his robe to see if the Bracelet of Lostris was still there. But he hadn't needed to check. He could feel the thrumming of Power emanating from the Bracelet.   
  
As he waited to be rescued, worry creased his forehead: why hadn't the Bracelet helped him and Martin escape the freak wave? 


	11. Chapter Ten

CHAPTER TEN  
  
Afterlife, Sometime in Eternity   
  
  
"Taita, tell us a story to take our minds off Seth. He's been nasty as of late," Lostris persisted, picking up a golden cup of wine. She looked at her lover Tanus, the father of her son. Tanus smiled at her.   
  
They'd helped the Restorer of Ma'at defeat Set's plans for him but what mortals didn't know was the work was exhausting, for Set was a God, and Lostris had been mortal. Even with her son, the God-King Pharoah Tamose, it was draining work keeping Set at bay.   
  
Everyone was in high spirits at their temporary subjugation of Seth. Ardeth was safe, for the time being, and Lostris had decided a little celebration was in order.   
  
"My Queen, I what story shall I tell?" Taita asked, smoothing down his red-gold hair that had been restored to him in its full glory in the Afterlife. "Not the only thing that was restored in the Afterlife," Taita thought, smiling inwardly as he remembered how Lord Intef and Rasfer's handiwork in creating a eunuch out of the sixteen year old slave Taita all those decades ago had disappeared in an instant.   
  
"Isis and the Seven Scorpions!" shouted Pharoah Tamose, who, for this particular gathering, had appeared to the group as he did when his mother was first appointed Regent of Egypt in her 21st year--Tamose was a five year old and at the time he was called Prince Memnon: Ruler of the Dawn.   
  
"Memnon," his mother warned but she, too, giggled, her dark green eyes crinkling at the corners. She had thought his childhood name apt. Memnon had indeed been the Ruler of the Dawn: the Hyksos had brought a new dawn to Egyptian history and Memnon had been a prince in exile.   
  
Taita and Tanus laughed. "My Queen, my Prince Memnon, and Lord Tanus, I will tell the story of Isis and the Seven Scorpions," Taita intoned, quite seriously. "The tale is part of a potent spell to protect against venomous stings and Seth has tried to sting us recently," he added with a wink of his eye.   
  
  
  
"After Isis resurrected Osiris long enough to impregnate herself, her son Horus was born. Isis's evil brother Seth took her and Horus as hostages.   
Thoth took pity on their plight, and provided seven scorpions to escort Isis and Horus in their flight from captivity. Their names were Petet, Tjetet, Matet, Mesetet, Mesetetef, Tefen and Befen.   
  
After walking many hours in the swampy Delta, Isis and Horus straggled into a village, tired and hungry. The first house that Isis tried to get food and shelter at belonged to a wealthy noblewoman. As soon as she saw the scorpions, she promptly shut the door in Isis's face. Undeterred, Isis took Horus by the hand and tried her luck elsewhere.   
  
Eventually, Isis found shelter in the dilapidated home of a peasant girl.   
  
"Yes, you may stay the night in my home, my Lady," the peasant girl said, showing Isis, Horus, and the seven scorpions into her home. "I will prepare a meal," she said, showing Isis and Horus to a small table.   
  
"You are very kind," Isis said, allowing herself and Horus to be seated.   
  
"I am afraid I have only barley bread and beer to offer you," the peasant girl said as she laid out a simple meal.   
  
"We had no food and no shelter before your offer. We are grateful," Isis said as her son ate the still warm barley bread.   
  
After seeing their mistress and her son settled with food, drink and a bed, the seven scorpions discussed the noblewoman's actions.   
  
"A peasant girl can hardly afford to share bread and beer, yet she did so willingly," Petet said.   
  
"But the noblewoman had jewels on her fingers and silver on her wrists, and she refused to help a traveller," Mesetet said.   
  
The scorpions agreed that the noblewoman deserved revenge. In preparation, six of the scorpions gave their individual poisons to Tefen who loaded his stinger with the poisons.   
  
After Isis and Horus were asleep, Tefen sneaked into the noblewoman's home and stung her son. Distraught, the woman wandered through the town seeking help for her child who was on the verge of death. But no one wanted to help her because of her previous inhospitality.   
  
Isis heard the woman's cries for help. Although the woman had been unkind to her, Isis could not bear the thought of the death of an innocent child and left with the woman to help her son. Isis held the boy in her arms and spoke words of great magic.   
  
She named each of the scorpions and thereby dominated them; rendering their combined poison to be harmless in the child. The noblewoman was humbled by Isis' unconditional kindness and as thanks offered all of her worldly wealth to Isis and to the peasant girl who had shown hospitality to a stranger who turned out to be a Goddess."   
  
  
  
  
"Now, young Prince," Tanus said, fingering the Gold of Valor hung around his neck. "What is the moral of the story?"   
"Always be kind and help those in need?" the green-eyed Prince asked a bit shyly, fingering his own Gold of Valor that he had earned when he was just a child. It had been unusual for a child to earn the Gold of Valor, but times in Egypt had been unusual and he did, if he said so himself, show great initiative in helping Tanus.   
  
Even if he'd been ten when he'd earned the Gold of Valor. He knew he was cheating a bit with his appearances in the Afterlife but he did so love the Gold of Valor that Taita had made especially for his ten year old incarnation.   
  
"You are right, my Prince. And we shall have to help Ardeth Bey again, and soon," Taita replied. "So let us enjoy the meals and wine offered us by our subjects," he finished.   
  
Tanus laughed, and Taita, Lostris and Memnon joined in the merriment the afterlife offered them. Taita had a sneaking suspicion that their help would be needed more than once in the near future of the earthbound world.   
  
He didn't know why but he had a terrible foreboding every time the golden light shimmered. And the golden light had shimmered thousands of times in the past minutes? days? Taita didn't know how to tell time here in the Crossroads and in the Afterlife, but Taita thought that way too many souls had passed through the Crossroads--and the souls had all passed together, as if a terrible catastrophe had occured in the earthbound world.   
  
"Another war," Taita thought. "Like the final battle that ended Pharoah Mamose's life and started the 250 year reign of the Hyksos Kings."   
  
  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
The Underworld, Sometime in Eternity (scuttlebutt has the date as late September, 1940)   
  
  
"You planned the destruction of the Pyramids and of the tombs and temples of Egypt?" Imhotep asked the new arrival, a fresh-faced young man.   
  
Every demon in the underworld had wanted a piece of the new arrival and they had temporarily stopped devouring the other doomed souls when Nuit had thrown the new soul into the Underworld. The demons waited, impatient, shaking their fists at Imhotep.   
  
"We want him!" a multitude of voices shouted.   
  
"Give him to us!" another chorus of voices called.   
  
"I'm hungry!" shouted one female demon, her voice louder than the rest.   
  
Imhotep looked at her gently--he had a soft spot for women (Anck Su Namun's betrayal still weighed upon him and he vowed he would get his revenge on her one day). That particular female demon hadn't yet fully transformed into a hideousness better left to nightmares and most of her beautiful face remained.   
  
Imhotep raised his hand for silence. The demons quieted but loud grumblings were heard from the eternally long line.   
  
The young man looked scared. Imhotep didn't want to know his name. "Ye, ye, yes. That was the plan," he finally choked out. "Where am I?" he asked, looking around. "How can I understand you?"   
  
"In the underworld, we understand everything," Imhotep's voice was deceptively soft.   
  
"What will happen to me? Where's my mother and father? Aren't they supposed to meet me or something? I mean, that's like the thing, isn't it? They meet me?" the young man asked, scanning the human crowd which had gathered to one side of the demons.   
  
"Are your parents dead?"   
  
"Five years ago in an accident," the young man replied. "Are they here?" he repeated.   
  
Imhotep laughed darkly. "No, your parents are not here. But you are, and you will be here for eternity."   
  
"Wha, what did I do to get here? What are these creatures?" he asked, waving his hand at the demons, who started salivating.   
  
"You planned the destruction of the Pyramids, and the destruction of the tombs and temples of Egypt. That plan was enough to damn your soul eternally," Imhotep replied. "Planning to destroy the Pyramids would be enough to cause you to suffer the Hom-Dai."   
  
"But I thought it would be a good plan! They're just buildings!" the young man protested. Demons howled their disapproval of the new arrival and they started clawing. Imhotep raised his hand. The demons quieted.   
  
Imhotep leaned down until his face was close to Josef's face. He saw Josef swallow back his fear. "Do you know why the Egyptians painted their tombs and temples?" he asked Josef.   
  
The unfortunate young man shook his head.   
  
"We painted our tombs and temples so that in the Afterlife we may enjoy the pleasures that we enjoyed during our earthbound life."   
  
"I, I d-d-don't understand," Josef stammered. He was beginning to be afraid, to be very afraid for himself.   
  
"People in the Afterlife can receive sustenance through two means: tomb paintings and an earthbound mortuary cult to perform rituals and prayers. The tomb paintings would provide sustenance to the deceased in the event the mortuary cult failed to perform its duties of prayers and offerings. In other words, the Egyptians stocked their tombs with the objects--and paintings of the objects, feasts and offerings--that they wished to enjoy in the Afterlife," Imhotep explained.   
  
Young Josef was sweating profusely and the onion-like smell offended Imhotep's nose. "Like if a musician wanted to play music in the afterlife, he'd have musical instruments in his tomb?"   
  
Imhotep nodded. "And the temples dedicated to the gods were painted with singers, dancers, feasts and offerings because?" he asked Josef softly.   
  
Josef swallowed again. "Because if the mortuary cult failed to perform its duties, then the gods would continue to receive sustenance?"   
  
"If the mortuary cult failed to perform its duties for any reason, including invasion of Egypt, then the images of the gods in the paintings would remain alive in the afterlife and receive sustenance through the paintings of the dancers, singers, offerings, feasts and the prayers inscribed and painted on the temple walls," Imhotep corrected.   
  
"So, if the temples and tombs of Egypt are destroyed, then the Egyptian afterlife would cease to exist?" Josef asked.   
  
"Yes. Any plan to destroy the Pyramids goes against the gods and the plan goes against the gods of the underworld. Your arrival has granted a reprieve to the other people," Imhotep indicated the human crowd with a nod of his shaven head. "Their sins together do not equal the sin of attempting to destroy the Pyramids and the Afterlife of Egypt," Imhotep told the young man.   
  
"The pain is exquisite when the soul is devoured," Imhotep now pointed at the eternally long line of waiting demons. "I thought it would be better for you if your soul was devoured by one demon at a time. Much more painful that way."   
  
The young man gulped. His eyes were bugged out in terror as he watched the poison saliva drip from the demons' jaws. They shook their fists at him.   
  
"Now," Imhotep told him, taking a step closer to the frightened young man and leaning even closer towards him. "Tell me everything that Hitler is planning on doing to Egypt. I can make things much easier for you." 


	12. Chapter Eleven

CHAPTER ELEVEN  
  
Wolf Rock, along the Penzance ferry route to St Mary's, Scilly Islands, nearest to Land's End, Cornwall, late September, 1940   
  
  
"There is a man! There is a man!" David jumped up, nearing tipping the boat over.   
  
"By jove, he's right," the sailor, Thomas Wheaton, said softly, picking up a British saying. He slowed the boat, watching carefully the storm surge, and cupping his hands around his mouth he called, "Hello!"   
  
Ardeth waved at the white smudge. He mimicked the man and cupped his hands around his mouth. "Hello! Can you help?"   
  
"Yes! We'll be there shortly!" Thomas steered the boat towards the closest outcrop of Wolf Rock that the man would be able jump into the boat. The man understood Thomas's actions and nimbly made his way towards the rocky outcrop.   
  
"Hullo, there, mister!" David piped up, as Ardeth stepped into the boat, which rocked and swayed but stayed put under Thomas's expert direction.   
  
"Hello! Guess ah came by at a good time," Thomas tried to joke as Ardeth seated himself.   
  
"Are there any others?" Thomas asked.   
  
Ardeth shook his head. "I'm not sure how many survived. I was traveling with Martin Wilkes. We were both washed overboard when a freak wave washed over the ferry's deck. I'm not even sure how many were washed overboard."   
  
"How many people were on the ferry?"   
  
"Myself, Martin, the captain and a crew of seven."   
  
"Boat's name? We'll start a search."   
  
"Gilgamesh. Owned by Roger Wiltshire of Penzance. That's where we were headed."   
  
Thomas nodded, his dark brown curls bobbing in time. "Ah'll radio it in when we get back. You're at Land's End when we get back. It's eight miles to shore."   
  
"Is Land's End very far from Penzance?" Ardeth inquired.   
  
Thomas shook his head. "It's about an hour's sail. But with the heavy bombing of London by the Luftwaffe, the government has suspended private sailing craft from Land's End up to Dover. There's blackout restrictions on fuel, too, so cars are not used during the night."   
  
"Any way to get to London?"   
  
"By land," Thomas replied. "Pub owners around these parts rent out horses. Ah like to go riding myself."   
  
"Do you have a blanket?" Ardeth asked, shivering slightly despite his heavy wet robes.   
  
"Here it is mister!" David piped up, wanting to be of help. He pointed to a pile of blankets near Ardeth's feet. "What's your name?" he asked Ardeth. He was awed to discover this man had been washed overboard the side of the Penzance ferry. He'd never known anyone who'd been washed overboard before.   
  
"I am called Ardeth Bey," Ardeth replied, picking up a blanket and wrapping it around himself. "And what's your name, little one?" he asked the youngster.   
  
"David. David Dunlop. I'm four although I look older," David replied, holding up four of his fingers. He looked behind him. The setting sun was just about to sink below the horizon. "Where's the gull? I saw the gull when you were on Wolf Rock."   
  
"He left to go home to sleep," Ardeth replied. David yawned in response then he smiled at Ardeth.   
  
Thomas chose that moment to break in. "Name's Thomas Wheaton. Ah'm from Savannah, Georgia."   
  
"United States," Ardeth replied.   
  
"You're from Spain?"   
  
Ardeth shook his head. "Egypt. I am Tuareg."   
  
"Tuareg? I didn't think that accent sounded Spanish."   
  
"What's Egypt?" David put in.   
  
"Egypt is where the Pyramids were built. My people live in the desert along the Nile," Ardeth replied.   
  
"What's Spanish, Arder?" David now wanted to know as he leaned on Ardeth's knee. "Are you Spanish?"   
  
Ardeth smiled at David but it was Thomas who answered David. "Spain is a country, and the Spanish live in Spain. You know, like the Danes live in Daneland," Thomas finished, with a sly tone in his voice.   
  
"Nuh uh! Danes don't live in Daneland!" David retorted. He wasn't sure where the Danes lived but Daneland didn't sound right, and he wasn't sure how he knew that. He knitted his brows together. There was a lot he wasn't sure of and he wasn't sure about how much he didn't know. By jove, life was perplexing!   
  
Ardeth smiled again. "But the Danes do live in Daneland," he said, quite seriously, his dark eyes large. David leaned forward and tipped his small face up to look Ardeth in the eyes. Ardeth looked down at David. David knitted his brows again.   
  
"You are not sure where the Danes live but you know, somehow, that the Danes do not live in Daneland. Am I right?" Ardeth asked the child.   
  
Thomas laughed and David nodded his head vigorously. "Where do the Danes live, Arder?" he asked Ardeth.   
  
"The Danes are also known as the Danish. And the Danes live in Denmark," Ardeth replied, smiling again. This child was refreshing to him. "Does that sound better? The Danes live in Denmark?"   
  
David nodded, a tear forming in his eye. "But..."   
  
"Yes?" Ardeth asked softly.   
  
"But sometimes," David was hesitating. He was a bit afraid; in fact, he was miserable about his next statement, but Arder seemed a nice person. "But sometimes, sometimes we eat the danish for breakfast," he finished miserably, looking down. Tears fell down his cheeks to wet his pea jacket.   
  
Ardeth took his hand and tipped David's head upwards. "A danish is a sweet breakfast pastry. You haven't eaten the Danish people. Don't worry, little one. The breakfast pastry is called danish, just like the Danes are also referred to as Danish," Ardeth said.   
  
"Better?" he asked the child.   
  
David smiled through his tears. He jumped up and hugged Ardeth, who couldn't help but hug David back.   
  
"He's only four," Ardeth told Thomas, who nodded.   
  
"Ah'm not much good around children. Ah guess language games aren't a good idea. But, it was David's idea to come out to this rock," Thomas said, wanting to give the little guy some credit.   
  
"Was it your idea to come out here, David?"   
  
"Uh-huh! Wolf Rock is a baaad place! The sailors said so!" David said and crawled down to sit on Ardeth's lap. Despite the warmth his robe gave him, Ardeth found the warmth of the child necessary--and comforting--for as the sun set, a chilling wind came off the ocean.   
  
David decided this was a good time to tell his story.   
  
"I was standing on the shore and I was looking at the lighthouse because daddy sometimes takes people out here to take pictures and I saw something black near the lighthouse," David took a deep breath. At four, he had just learned to describe his day in nearly complete sentences and he wanted to make sure he got his thoughts out of his mind before he forgot them.   
  
He continued, "And that was you, Arder, and I saw the gull and then I went and called mummy! And here we are!" David finished with a flourish. He took another deep breath.   
"I owe you my thanks, and my life," Ardeth said to David. Looking at Thomas, he said, "I thank you for believing in David's assertations that I was here."   
  
"You're welcome," David said as the small boat carrying the three males reached the shore.   
  
"Sea folk take care of each other. There's been too much loss of life as it is," Thomas replied.   
  
Ardeth nodded, and his soul cried out in agony about the bombings.   
  
Martha was standing on the shore, waiting for them. "Well, I'll be..." her voice trailed off in awe. "There was someone on Wolf Rock!"   
  
"Hello, ma'am! Ah brought someone for you!"   
  
"I see that!" Martha tried to hide her shock. "The tide is coming up over Wolf Rock. He would have drowned," Martha thought to herself.   
  
"Ah'll go alert the coast guard to be on patrol for the Gilgamesh and any survivors," Thomas said as he gathered up the ropes to moor the small boat to the dock.   
  
"That was an authorized supply run Roger was on. You'll find the phone to the left of the door. Just dial 999 and they'll connect you," Martha said in a tone of sadness as Thomas went to make the call. "Anyone else survive?"   
  
Ardeth shook his head but he was hoping that Martin survived. He didn't want to mention that he thought Martin had survived.   
  
"Mummy! This is Arder Bey! He told me that the Danish live in Denmark and we don't eat them for breakfast!" Ardeth swung David out of the boat and into his mother's arms.   
  
"Well now, that sounds right! Welcome, Arthur Bey," Martha said. "I'm Martha Dunlop. You've met my son. I've a hot bath and a meal waiting for you." Martha put her son down on the ground.   
  
"Thank you, Mrs Dunlop," Ardeth said, his dark eyes looking directly at Martha. He didn't correct the mispronunciation of his name. He would be Arthur for David and Martha. "But what I really need is a way to get to London. Can you help?"   
  
"London?" Martha peered at Ardeth. Arthur needs to get to London? she asked herself. "Why, yes. I can rent you a horse. We don't own a car and there's three rail lines to London that are bombed. Trains aren't running and the coast is shut to private sailing craft as a result of the Luftwaffe. On top of all that, there's a blackout in effect during the evenings."   
  
"A horse will be fine," Ardeth said. He looked at Martha with an expression of gratitude. "That hot bath and dinner sounds wonderful as well," Ardeth finished, smiling. The Gods were providing.   
  
"Yes," a flustered Martha started to say but she was interrupted by David.   
  
"Are you going to stay the night? Can you tell me some stories?" David asked, grabbing Ardeth's hand and tugging him towards the pub. Thomas, meanwhile, had gone off to phone the coast guard.   
  
Martha kept in step with her son, who was still tugging on Ardeth's hand.   
  
"You were lucky. The submarine SS Joshua Nicholson sunk off Wolf Rock in March 1917 and there've been a lot of shipwrecks off that rock."   
  
"It's a good thing there was a lighthouse put there and a good thing your son was looking through the telescope," he said, smiling down at David's blonde head and allowing David to lead him to the pub, David chattering all the way to the staircase leading to the second floor.   
  
"The lighthouse was built there in 1869," Marth replied, her irriation at the purloining of the telescope dissipating as she realized that without David's misbehavior, this man would be amongst the dead Wolf Rock claimed. "David, why not go and set the table for Arthur? You can have dinner with him."   
  
"Yeahh!" David said, turning and running off as fast as he could.   
  
"He's a very good child," Ardeth commented after they'd climbed the stairs. Martha showed Ardeth where the hot bath waited.   
  
"He can be a trial at times," Martha replied. "If you'll leave those clothes, I'll have them washed out for you."   
  
"Thank you," Ardeth commented as Martha took her leave of him. Ardeth undressed and removed the Bracelet of Lostris from its leather pouch. The Bracelet still thrummed and Ardeth knew that somehow, Martin was alive. But where was Martin? Looking down at his legs, he noted his knees and thighs had swelling purple bruises.   
  
Ardeth slid into the still very hot bath. He felt the heated water relaxing his muscles and draining some of the tension. He still had to find Martin and get to London. Boat, car and train were out of the equation now, so by way of horse he would travel to London.   
  
But why hadn't the Bracelet helped them?   
  
Then Ardeth sat up in the bathtub. Didn't Thomas say Wolf Rock was eight miles from Land's End? That was nearly thirteen kilometers. How did David see a lighthouse eight miles away with a telescope unless...unless the Bracelet did help him.   
  
Ardeth relaxed back into the hot water again. Martha did draw a very fine bath.   
  
And the Bracelet of Lostris that Taita had fashioned some thirty five hundred years ago and had imbued with Lostris' power? The Bracelet had enabled a four year old child peering through a telescope to see a shipwreck victim lying on a rock formation eight miles from shore.   
  
"Lostris must be associated with the magic of Isis," was Ardeth's last thought before the warm water relaxed his muscles and he napped.   
  
  
  
  
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The Throne Room where the Dead go before Osiris and Ammit, Sometime in Eternity (but scuttlebutt has heard rumor it is late September 1940)   
  
  
"And Ardeth will have only granted Egypt a temporary reprieve from Hitler," Imhotep told the assembled Egyptian Gods. Only Set was missing; he was busy elsewhere with his new follower. Set was also battling with his mother, which, while bad for Ardeth and Martin, kept Set distracted from the secret council of the Gods.   
  
But Set was used to missing secret councils of the Gods; he and Horus had been absent hundreds of times from council meetings when Set was battling Horus for control of the Throne.   
  
Ammit, the Crocodile Monster who preferred the name Devourer of the Dead, and who devoured the hearts of the unworthy, snapped his jaws. "Hitler will not have to be judged by Ma'at. He is already judged unworthy!"   
  
The demons of the underworld were assembled behind Imhotep: the balance between good and evil was equally represented. The female demon Imhotep had noted earlier was happily sucking on the soul of the young man, Josef.   
  
The faces of the gods registered shock. Bastet growled, her cat face scrunching up and her green eyes flashed anger. Horus was walking back and forth, stamping his feet while his mother Isis was weeping uncontrollably. Geb had his hand on Isis' shoulder.   
  
"I want Hitler for myself," the female demon growled between sips of Josef's soul. Imhotep smiled wanly at her and she continued sucking on Josef's soul.   
  
"If London falls, then all of the land north of the Great Green will fall. Hitler will have guessed Josef's plans and he will assemble an army to invade Egypt. But with the land north of the Great Green under his control, he will succeed in destroying Egypt, the Pyramids, and the tombs and temples," Imhotep said.   
  
Sharp intakes of breath from the Gods told Imhotep that there were crimes which were considered worse than his own crimes.   
  
His words about Hitler's plans had chilled the Throne Room and clouds of mist swirled in the air.   
  
Imhotep looked around the Throne Room. "Hitler plans on destroying all traces of the Egyptian civilization, from our beginnings with the Scorpion King up to the present. The destruction of the temples and their paintings would be enough to ensure the Gods' destruction."   
  
"Egypt and Her Gods will not allow Hitler to succeed!" Hathor exclaimed, her anger changing her normal cow form to that of an angry lioness.   
  
"What does that mean?" a young male demon asked the God of the Dead, Osiris.   
  
"It means that we, as Gods, would no longer exist if the temples and their paintings were destroyed. Because even if the temples fall into neglect, the paintings on the temple walls of the feasts, offerings, singers, dancers and inscribed prayers would continue to keep the Gods alive and with sustenence," Osiris replied, repeating Imhotep's earlier words.   
  
Nepthys put in, "Tuthmothis III erased Hatshepsut's name from public buildings. By removing her name, he tried to ensure her erasure from the Afterlife."   
  
"So by destroying the temples and tombs, all Egyptian afterlife would be destroyed? Including us in the underworld?" the male demon queried, his voice shaking.   
  
"Including the demons in the underworld," Osiris confirmed. The demons howled in frustration.   
  
"What do we do?" a frightened Bes, a dwarf fertility god and guardian of pregnant women, asked. The question was repeated by many of the lesser goddesses.   
  
"We need to help prevent the fall of London," the female demon growled, lifting her head up from Josef's soul. She had been slowly sucking on Josef's soul to better draw out his pain.   
  
"Yes! Yes!" shouts came from both sides of the underworld.   
  
"Then we are in agreement?" Osiris asked the assembled gods, sans Set, and including the demons of the underworld in his statement.   
  
A roar of approval sounded.   
  
"Then this meeting is adjourned. We will do everything we can to prevent the fall of London. Then we will focus on getting Hitler to the Underworld," Osiris said. "I just hope that wayward brother of mine doesn't prevent Ardeth from reaching London in time."   
  
The assembled gods and demons began to disperse.   
  
"High Priest Imhotep?" Osiris called to his former High Priest.   
  
Imhotep turned, the light from Nuit's still-falling tears illuminating the gold in his robe. "Yes, my Lord?"   
  
"Thank you for letting us know about Hitler's plans," Osiris said. Imhotep inclined his head, then left the Throne Room, his golden robes fluttering around his ankles. He would be allowed to keep his golden robes in the Underworld.   
  
Isis turned to Osiris. "That deed he did, will that outweigh his crime?"   
  
Osiris thought a moment. "Ma'at will weigh his heart against the feather again. And the demons won't eat his soul until Ma'at weighs his heart. He deserves that much. " 


	13. Chapter Twelve

CHAPTER TWELVE  
  
The Grayson Pub, September 23, 1940, just before David's late bedtime   
  
  
"Tell me a story, Arthur!" David asked of his new friend, leading him by the hand to a couch nestled cozily by the fireplace. Ardeth was babysitting, for Martha had gone to saddle up the stallion Ardeth had rented from her. He'd paid her with the gold pinky ring he had worn on his right hand.   
  
Ardeth smiled. There was something totally irresistable about David which struck a chord in Ardeth's heart. And Ardeth couldn't help but respond warmly. Perhaps it was the irresistable lure of the very young which had caused Ardeth to express more emotions than he'd expressed to anyone. In the few hours which had passed since his rescue, Ardeth had found himself smiling at, hugging, and singing to this irresistable young child.   
  
"What story shall I tell you?" he asked David as the two sat down on the couch. David looked at Ardeth, then decided to sit on his new friend's knee.   
  
"Stories about Egypt!"   
  
Should he tell a myth? Or stories from his childhood travels across the Sahara? He looked at the smiling blonde youngster and remembered that four year olds liked stories about magic.   
  
Making his decision, he replied, "This is a story about magic spells."   
  
"Yeahhhhh!" David cheered, clapping his hands.   
  
"It's called Siosire and the Magician of Nubia:"   
  
  
  
"Holding a sealed letter up to Rameses, a Nubian boy asked, "Can anyone here read this letter without opening it? If there is none wise enough to do so, all of Nubia shall know of Egypt's shame."   
  
Perplexed, and still distressed over the recent death of his father, Seti, Rameses, the second to hold that Throne Name, called for Prince Setna, the most learned of his sons. But Setna was baffled by the puzzle.   
  
Not wanting to shame Egypt, he parried and asked for ten days' grace so that he may solve the puzzle put forth by the Nubian. But he was worried and fretted during the ten days of grace that he had been granted.   
  
Setna's son, Siosire, had asked his father what was wrong. When he was told of the Nubian puzzle, Siosire said, "Why Father! I can read that letter!"   
  
Setna was puzzled even more but he got a papyrus scroll from his wooden chest and Siosire read the contents without unrolling it."   
  
____________  
  
"What's a papryus?" David interrupted.   
  
"It's Egyptian writing paper," Ardeth explained, then continued his tale.   
  
____________  
  
"Setna was astonished and the next day Siosire and Setna went to Rameses and the young Nubian. Siosire proceeded to tell the court what the Nubian's scroll contained."   
  
___________  
  
"What's Nubian?" David interrupted again.   
  
"Nubia is a country just south of Egypt and the citizens are referred to as Nubians," Ardeth replied. He softened his voice, in order to relax the child for sleep.   
  
____________  
  
"One thousand, five hundred floodings ago, the Prince of Nubia had used the powers of his great magician Sa-Neheset to bring Egypt's pharoah to the Nubian court. The Prince of Nubia then administered a brutal beating to the pharoah.   
  
Shamed, the pharoah sought help from his own magician, Sa-Paneshe and the two great magicians began a great struggle.   
  
In the end, Sa-Paneshe triumphed and the Nubian sorcerer vowed not to return to Egypt for one and a half thousand floodings.   
  
At the end of his reading, Siosire said, "This Nubian boy is really Sa-Neheset reincarnated after one and a half thousand floodings. But I am the reincarnation of Sa-Paneshe and I challenge him once again!"   
  
Immdiately, Sa-Neheset began to recite spells, which were countered by Sa-Paneshe. Thunder roiled, lightning struck, and the earth shook but the two magicians were locked in a great battle.   
  
Finally, the reincarnation of Sa-Paneshe sent a fire-spell which rendered Sa-Neheset's magic useless and Sa-Neheset was consumed in the flames.   
  
But as Setna and Rameses watched, their faces full of pride for Egypt, Sa-Paneshe disappeared. The voice of Osiris said that he had called Sa-Paneshe back to the underworld."  
  
  
  
  
Martha cut in, "Time for bed, David," she said, reaching out for her son. David allowed himself to be picked up. Her cheeks were ruddy from the chilly night. "The horse is saddled up and ready," she told Ardeth. Ardeth hadn't heard her come in the front door of the pub.   
"That was a good story, Arthur! Good night, Arthur! You need to come back soon!" David said cheerfully, then yawned. He'd been forgiven for purloining the telescope, he'd learned a new story tonight and his new friend Arthur had said he'd try to come back and see David. All this put David in a fine mood to go to sleep and it showed on his four year old face. He yawned again.   
"Good night, David. I will try to come back here as soon as I can," Ardeth softly replied, smiling again at David. In the past few hours, he'd found he couldn't help but smile whenever David was the room--somehow David managed to dispel the gloom Ardeth's heart had felt everytime people were wrenched from their lives and suddenly transported through the Crossroads of Time.   
  
"He'll miss you, Arthur," Martha said, settling David on her left hip. For his part, David put his head on his mum's shoulder. "When there's a need for overnight messages or deliveries, we have a network of riders who bring food, letters and supplies along the Cornish coastline," she said.   
  
"That would work with physicians as well," Ardeth commented, thinking of a young child living more than a few kilometers from the nearest physician.   
  
Martha nodded and took off her heavy pea jacket. Placing the jacket over the top of the couch, she replied, "With the fuel war rations and the blackout restrictions, we found that horses are the best way to transport lightweight loads."   
  
"I am at home with horses," Ardeth replied easily, then made his next request. "Would you send a telegram to London, attention of Rick O'Connell?"   
  
"What shall I tell him?" Martha asked.   
  
"Just that I'm on my way to London," Ardeth replied.   
  
"That I will do, Arthur Bey. Good luck," she said, turning to walk out of the room, David's head on her shoulder.   
  
"Thank you, Martha."   
  
David twisted around and called sleepily over his mother's shoulder.   
  
"Arthur, would you tuck me in?" David inquired as his mother walked towards the second staircase located next to the kitchen.   
  
"If your mother says yes, then I would be pleased," Ardeth replied.   
  
"Mummy?" David entreatied his mother. She chuckled and nodded her head. "Yeaaah!" David's soft voice, full of sleep, replied. Ardeth followed Martha up the stairs towards the pub's front apartment.   
  
Martha pulled the covers up under David's chin and Ardeth leaned forward to kiss David on the forehead. "Sing me a lullaby," the four year old murmured as he settled back into the warmth the bed provided.   
  
Martha chuckled softly. "Insistent, aren't you?" she asked of her son as a soft humming was heard.   
  
David nodded his head as he simultaneously gave a big yawn. He'd never been awake this late before and Ardeth's soft humming was soothing. David settled back into the fluffy pillow, closing his blue eyes. Memories of the day's events flashed before his eyes and softly, David heard Ardeth sing in another language.   
  
David's eyes fluttered as soft humming began again. Ardeth's soft voice filled David's ears as Ardeth sang,   
  
  
  
What is it, little one?   
My good little one,   
My brave little one   
My dear little one   
What is it, little one?   
Be still, I will stroke your fingers   
I kiss the sweat from your brow   
I will stay near you   
You and I belong together   
  
  
  
Martha put her finger to her lips and motioned Ardeth out of David's room. The child was fast asleep, Martha softly closed the door and caught up with Ardeth.   
"What language were you singing in?"   
  
"Tamasheqt. It is the language of my people, the Tuareg."   
  
"It's beautiful. That was a Tuareg lullaby you sang?"   
  
Ardeth nodded, a smile playing on his red lips. "And one my mother used to sing to me when I was little. She always hummed the lullaby before starting to sing," he said. "I translated the words into English when my friends Rick and Evie O'Connell had their son Alex," he finished.   
  
"Tuareg," Martha said thoughtfully. "Do they have a king?" she asked as they descended the stairs back to the pub's main level.   
  
"Not a king, a commander. My tribe is a confederation and we are part of the Tuareg people known as the Medjai," he replied as he reached the bottom of the stairs. He turned to look at Martha. "The Medjai now protect Hamunuptra and in the time of the Pharaohs, the Medjai were the Pharoah's sacred bodyguards," he finished.   
  
"You would have protected King Tut?" she asked, disclosing her unabashed interest in things Egyptian and this was interesting information Ardeth was telling her.   
  
"Yes. As the Medjai, my ancestors protected the boy-king," Ardeth said, knowing the English fascination with the tomb of King Tut. He looked in Martha's eyes. "I thank you again, Martha. I owe my life to you and your son David. You and your family have earned the eternal thanks of my tribe."   
  
Martha didn't know what to say, so she said the obvious. "You're welcome."   
  
He picked up a leather satchel that Martha had provided which contained extra blankets and a supply of food until he reached the next stop nearly seventy kilometers down the coastline. Opening the door, a chill wind blew into the pub.   
  
Martha shivered. "Cold night out," she commented.   
  
"The Sahara, at night, gets so cold that ice forms in the tea pots," he told Martha. The Tuareg were predilected towards their foaming tea ceremony--and the Tuareg preferred green tea in particular--and Ardeth's statement was true: at times, the Sahara could get so cold at night ice formed from water and people were known to have frozen to death in the desert night.   
  
Ardeth's stallion mount saw him and neighed a greeting. Ardeth chuckled. "Good evening to you!" he said as he stepped through the door and turning one last time to look at Martha, he smiled at her and shut the door.   
  
Ensuring the satchel was secure on his mount, he swung himself into the saddle. Ardeth was about to nudge the horse into action when the pub's door opened.   
  
"I won't forget to send a telegram to Rick O'Connell in London!" Martha said.   
  
"I appreciate it, Martha," Ardeth replied.   
  
Martha started to shut the door, then her curiosity got the better of her. "Ardeth? Who is the commander of the Medjai?"   
  
"I am," he replied as his heels came down on the stallion's flank and the magnificent horse galloped towards London.   
  
"Commander of the Medjai," Martha repeated as she looked after Ardeth. She shut the door, then went to the bookshelf and pulled out the book on King Tut and Ancient Egypt. Sitting down on the couch, she began to read enthusiastically about the young boy-king who had ruled Egypt more than three thousand years ago and whose artisans had fashioned such exquisite objects of gold and ivory.   
  
  
  
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Beachfront home near Lizard Point, Cornwall, late September 1940, after sunset   
  
  
"Just 'ow did you get to England?" Ida, suspicious, and dropping the h's at the beginning of her words, was asking Martin as she spooned mashed potatoes onto Martin's plate. The two were seated at Ida's dining room table.   
  
"My friend Ardeth and I were deckhands on the Gilgamesh."   
  
"The supply ferry!" Ida was alarmed. "Did Roger survive?" True concern showed in her voice. "He's known from Plymouth down to Land's End."   
  
Unwittingly echoing Ardeth's words, Martin replied, "I'm not sure how many survived. I was traveling with an Egyptian, Ardeth Bey. We were both washed overboard when a freak wave washed over the ferry's deck. I'm not even sure how many were washed overboard."   
  
Ida sat down on the chair, hard. A small oomph came out of her mouth. She fought to keep back tears. "Roger. A good man, Roger was."   
  
"Let's hold out hope. He may have been washed ashore," Martin said, reaching over the table and patted her hand.   
  
Ida sniffed back her tears. "Stiff upper lip, I know. English thing to do. Roger was supposed to be ferrying back the mail from the troops stationed there. My boys, both of them, are stationed in Paris and I was expecting letters from them."   
  
Martin sucked in his breath. Ida had sent off her two sons to war. "I sent my 'usband off to the first war. 'e served with Sigfried Sassoon, same regiment, even wounded the same day Siefried was. 'e came 'ome but 'e was never the same after that. Our twin sons were born nine months after their daddy came 'ome. But my 'usband died the night the twins were born. 'eart attack," she told Martin, sniffing back more tears.   
  
"And now your twins are off in war," Martin stated. Ida nodded.   
  
"Tis the way of war: they take your 'usbands, then they take your sons. Mums never win," she replied. "Now let's 'ear your story. 'ow did you meet a man from Egypt?"   
  
Martin spooned mashed potatoes into his mouth. Ida had mixed in rosemary and garlic before roasting the potatoes before deciding to mash them. The potatoes were hot. And delicious.   
  
He ran the events of the last month through his mind. "I enjoy being in Egypt," he began.   
  
Ida nodded assent. "King Tut's what got me fascinated in going there. Always wanted to go, but with my 'usband dead and two young boys to raise, I never could afford to go."   
  
"I met Ardeth in Cairo," he began to say but Ida interrupted him again.   
  
"Milk? Fresh from the udder, boiled then chilled."   
  
"Yes. Milk would be fine." Martha poured the milk. "Where was I? Oh, Cairo. Ardeth and I were traveling in Libya when we ran out of money in Tripoli. So we signed on as deckhands to a French supply boat."   
  
"Ah, working your way back to England, eh?" Ida asked, smiling through her sniffles.   
  
Martin chuckled. "It's something like that."   
  
"Ow did you get to Cherbourg? Fighting lines are thick and fast in France with the Nazis there," Ida commented, taking up a glass and pouring milk for herself. "The cow was the best investment I ever made. Even if I didn't get to take the kids on vacation that year."   
  
"When did you buy the cow?" Martin asked, hoping to buy himself some time to work out an adequate cover story.   
  
"Six years ago," she replied, smiling. "But 'ow did you get through the lines?" she insisted.   
  
"We hitchhiked until we arrived in Paris. We couldn't go any further by car."   
  
Martha sneered. "Nazis occupy Paris."   
  
Martin nodded. "Ardeth thought it too risky to walk to Cherbourg, so we bought horses," Martin stuffed a spoonful of potatoes into his mouth, chewed a bit, then swallowed. "And rode by horseback to Cherbourg."   
  
"You rode from Paris to Cherbourg? And the Nazi's didn't catch you?" Ida asked. "Your Ardeth must be very courageous or else he's very favored."   
  
"We rode at night and no, the Nazi's didn't seem to see us," Martin replied, stuffing another spoonful of potatoes into his mouth. Now that Ida mentioned it, it did seem strange that although he and Ardeth had passed dozens of Nazi encampments on the way to the French shore of the English Channel, not one Nazi soldier had paid any attention to the two men riding either in a lorry or riding past Nazi encampments on galloping horses.   
  
"If they had seen you, you wouldn't be sitting here today," Ida rightly proclaimed, drinking the milk.   
  
Martin nodded. "If you would please, may I have some of that vegetable stew?" Martin asked Ida. His stomach was empty of water now, and he discovered he was famished.   
  
He plucked a hot piece of black rye bread from the basket Ida had on her table and buttered it, then took a huge bite of the bread. Ida grew her own vegetable garden, replete with potatoes and herbs; she sold most of the herbs.   
  
War rations were beginning to be hard on everyone, including Ida, but she always had enough bread. With the milk from her cow, Ida always had fresh butter. She kept a small portion for herself, used mainly for guests, and sold or traded the rest of the butter.   
  
Ida nodded and got up to get a bowl from the antique sideboard. Filling the bowl from the pot of vegetable stew, she placed the bowl in front of Martin.   
  
He took up a spoon, dipped the spoon into the stew, then paused as something occured to him. The Nazis assuredly had not seen him, Ardeth (and any traveling companions), nor had the Nazis heard the sounds of galloping horses passing their encampments.   
  
Since their trip down the temporarily full Libyan wadi, the Bracelet had thrummed with power. From his past life, and from his studies in his current life, Martin was aware that heka, the divine creative force which has existed since the beginning of time, was used by the first gods to bring the world into being.   
  
Isis and Thoth were the two gods most associated with Egyptian magic. Martin knew Thoth was considered to have invented hieroglyphics, and thus Thoth brought Egypt into the civiilized world to rival the Mesopotamian world and their cuneiform scripts already invented. Written magic was extremely powerful and as the inventor of hieroglyphics, Thoth was also considered to have invented magic.   
  
But Isis was the most accomplished magician. And the Pyramid Texts on Imhotep's Step Pyramid incorporated the tale of Isis using magic to resurrect her husband/brother Osiris after Seth had murdered him.   
  
Queen Lostris had been tasked by Pharaoh Tamose with protecting the double crown of Egypt. What the Pharaoh, dying from an infected lung wound inflicted by the Hyksos, had meant was that the Regent Queen Lostris was to protect the heir to the Horus Throne, Prince Memnon. She had protected the five year old by exiling him, herself, Tanus, Taita and thousands of loyal subjects for twenty years--until the Prince came of age--in the land south of the sixth cataract of the Nile.   
  
And Taita had been in love with Lostris and had mummified her body after her death of uterine cancer in her early forties. But Taita had taken a lock of her hair and kept it with him, until at the end of his life when he embedded the lock of hair into the softened electrum he was using to fashion the Bracelet of Lostris.   
  
And there were protective spells attributed to either Isis or Thoth that Taita, as a hery-heb--a lector priest (better known as a warlock)--could have uttered when fashioning the Bracelet. A magic spell, perhaps from the Book of Thoth, had obviously been used during the creation of the Bracelet of Lostris.   
  
Martin had come to this nearly-instant conclusion because thinking back on his and Ardeth's trip from the Mediterranean Sea to the French shore of the English Channel in Nazi occupied France, it now seemed impossible that the two men could have slipped unnoticed by Nazi encampments without magical help.   
  
Especially since he and Ardeth, on no less than a dozen occasions, had been driven past, or had galloped on horses, past fully alert Nazi officers who appeared to be looking straight at the travelers.   
  
But the travelers had been totally ignored by the Nazis.   
  
This last fact indicated that the wily Taita had indeed uttered a protective spell over the Bracelet, a spell which obviously conferred invisibility to the wearer in extreme situations.   
  
Now Martin desperately wanted a copy of the magical text known as the Book of Thoth, which had purportedly contained spells to raise the dead and spells to gain dominion over the sky above, the earth below and all the living creatures which dwell on land and in the sea.   
  
Although the Greeks and Romans rewrote the Book of Thoth as the Hermetica, a original copy of the Book of Thoth had not been found. Perhaps, Martin thought, the Hermetica contained protection spells which might prove useful to their current situation.   
  
"Eh? That's a pretty good dream, isn't it? Going to see the Pyramids when the war is over and then on to an around the world trip," Ida was saying, apparently oblivious to Martin's woolgathering.   
  
"Absolutely a wonderful idea. Where else would you go?" he asked, scooping up a spoonful of thick vegetable stew.   
  
"After the war, I suppose this 'ouse could be rented or sold as a vacation 'ouse. I'm still strong yet and I could work in the olive fields of Greece. Perhaps Perth and Sydney. And the United States. I always 'eard there were fields of corn and wheat there," Ida continued to chatter about her around the world trip as Martin ate. A fire crackled in the fireplace.   
  
And Martin's soul could feel the Bracelet thrumming. For a moment, the thrumming seemed to intensify, then drifted into the back of Martin's mind, where the thrumming stayed as a comforting presence as Ida's chatter filled his ears.   
  
  
  
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Land's End, September 24, 1940, The Grayson Pub private apartment, dawn   
  
Mar-aha was awakened before dawn by an overnight temple servant who had found it necessary to contract herself to the Temple of Osiris for a short time. Mar-aha stood up, and allowed the servant to slip the fine linen sleeping gown off of Mar-aha's young lithe body.   
  
She smoothed her hands over her taut abdomen, and down her thighs--dancer's legs, she thought. Born in Egypt to foreign parents who came from the land north of the Black Sea, Mar-aha would turn twenty years on the fifteenth day of the third month of Shemu. Twenty years of age was a milestone, for many people did not live to see their fortieth year.   
  
Hunro led Mar-aha to the small enclosure that served as a bath. Mar-aha stepped over the ankle high wall and allowed Hunro to rub natron on her body and then pour warm water that ran in rivulets down the taut muscles of Mar-aha's body.   
  
After bathing, Hunro rubbed Mar-aha's body with scented oil and then oiled Mar-aha's shaven scalp. Hunro would have to shave Mar-aha's head again after morning prayers. Face paint was applied next and Mar-aha especially liked the green malachite powder applied to lids of her grey eyes. Gold dust was applied to Mar-aha's body so that she would shimmer in Ra's golden rays.   
  
Mar-aha's wig was placed on her head and Mar-aha was finally ready to take up the sistrum and dance for Osiris. She wore no clothes, preferring to dance unencumbered for the God.   
  
Shaking the sistrum, Mar-aha went dancing out of her chamber and joined the other temple dancers as they danced and shook the sistrum behind the priests of the Temple. The priests chanted and prayed to Osiris.   
  
The priests offered the food to sustain the God and Mar-aha felt when the God partook of the spirit of the food. She danced and shook her sistrum. Placing her sistrum on the finely hewn stone floor, Mar-aha bent herself backward and tumbled before the statue of the God of Osiris.   
  
Mar-aha hoped with all her ka that her dancing pleased the God. She especially needed his blessing today.   
  
For today was the Pharoah's natal day and Mar-aha had been selected to be one of the dancers who would dance before the God-King.   
  
  
  
"Mummy! Wake up!" David shouted, jumping up and down on Martha's bed and interrupting Martha's dream. She blinked a few times, then rubbed her blue eyes.   
  
"Oomph! Can't it wait until morning?" she groggily asked her exuberant son, who preferred to wake up with the sun.   
  
"It is morning!" he cheerfully said. "Do you think Arthur is okay?" he asked, a worry line transecting his smooth forehead. He'd learned to dress himself, but this morning found David wearing the same clothes as yesterday: blue jeans and a dark green turtleneck wool sweater.   
  
"I think he's okay, David. Why don't you go brush your teeth?" she suggested, hoping to get a few more minutes of sleep. She wanted her dream to continue; she wanted to dream about living in an ancient time, living in ancient Egypt. Martha suspected her reading the book on the treasures of King Tut, and Arthur's rescue, had had something to do with her pleasant dream.   
  
But David had been through this morning ritual before, and he knew his mother was trying to get rid of him so she could sleep a little more. She could take a nap later on, at the same time he did, David reasoned to himself. So he replied, "No!"   
  
Then he began to tickle his mother. Obligingly, she burst out into laughter.   
  
"When you laugh, you're awake, so you have to make my breakfast now!" he intoned, a big smile nearly splitting his face in two.   
  
Martha groaned a mock groan, long and low. David just laughed.   
  
"Okay, okay. I'll get up. We are a bit luckier than most, you know," she told her son.   
  
"I know! We get lots of sugar and tea and flour and other stuff from the sailors!" he practically shouted. He was a happy child, too young to really know what the Blitzkreig was, too young to know about war. David knew about the sun, the sea, and happy times and Martha desperately wanted David to hang onto his childhood innocence for as long as possible.   
  
"And, we have eight chickens, a cow and a vegetable garden like the Queen planted at Windsor Castle," she told her son.   
  
"We have ten chickens," David corrected.   
  
"Ten?"   
  
"Ten," he agreed vigorously.   
  
She smiled, and tickled her son. "How do you know we have ten chickens?" she asked.   
  
David held up his fingers and put each finger down as he counted, "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine and ten! We have as many chickens as I have fingers on my hands!" he told his mother, then kissed her on the cheek. "Let's go make my breakfast," he ordered, climbing down off the bed and charging out the bedroom door.   
  
"Yes, my king!" she said to the empty doorway.   
  
  
  
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Land's End, telegraph office, September 24, 1940   
  
"The first inquiry is a general inquiry. I am in possession of two more chickens than I had last night," she told William Barnstone, the telegraph operator, as she put a large leather shopper bag which had been given to her by a Spanish sailor in return for room and board for a few month. Leather was a luxury for Martha, even in peacetime.   
  
Martha had discovered David was right in his assertations: there were ten chickens in her chicken yard. The newcomers were both roosters. Martha had left David in the care of Thomas Wheaton, who would be leaving the Grayson Pub late that afternoon.   
  
"Full grown?" Will asked. Full grown chickens were Cornwallian's pride and joy, for they provided fresh eggs every day.   
  
Martha nodded. She opened her mouth to add that the gender of the fowls was male but decided to keep that information from her general notice. She thought she'd be able to root out false reports of missing fowl birds.   
  
Then the day faded, and for a moment, she was back in her dream dancing as Mar-aha once again.   
  
"And the second inquiry?" Will asked, interrupting her daydream. Will was a few years younger then her own age, which was thirty.   
  
"This telegram needs to get to Rick O'Connell in London."   
  
"Address?"   
  
Martha again opened her mouth to give an address, but realized that Arthur hadn't given an address. She thought a moment, then made a decision.   
  
"Could we send it general delivery?"   
  
William looked over his wire rim glasses at her. "General delivery? How's he going to know the telegram arrived?"   
  
"You're right. I suppose I'll have to send a letter, but,"   
  
"But you still don't have an address," Will finished for her. Martha nodded.   
  
"Well, still let the village know about the missing chickens, Will. I'd like to ask a favor."   
  
"Sure thing,"   
  
"I'd like to save most of the money I earn from the pub. I've got a healthy barter going on, especially with the foreign sailors. I'd like to do the same thing here," she reached into her shopper. Pulling out a smaller bag, she placed it on the counter.   
  
Will stood up and looked in the bag. "Tea! And sugar!" He pulled out the items and looked at the items. The tea was in a tin, loose, and the tin proclaimed the tea authentic Fortnum & Mason.   
  
"Earl Grey!" Will exclaimed.   
  
"The American brought it from New York. Along with the sugar. Left them as payment for his meals and lodging," Martha said.   
  
"Eh, war's so bad we've to get our tea from New York City," Will said, but his eyes crinkled at the corners and he was grinning hugely. "Uh, sure, Martha. You know, bartering's probably a good idea. I've got several fields of potatoes. I'll spread the word around about the bartering system," he finished, fingering the bag of sugar before going over to the small alcove which served as a kitchen.   
  
"Thank you," Martha said, picking up her shopper bag. Turning, she heard the sounds of Will putting his newfound objects away in the cupboard. She also heard the soft click of a lock. "War. Now we have to lock up our food," she thought to herself as she reached out her hand to open the door.   
  
"Martha? I've an idea on how to reach your Rick O'Connell."   
  
"How?" She turned back to face Will, pulling her Campbell plaid overcoat tighter around her. The early morning was chilly and she had a bit of a walk to get back to the pub.   
  
"I'll put an an ad in The Mirror."   
  
Martha smiled: problem solved. "That should do it."   
  
Will walked back to his desk and picked up a pencil. "What shall I say?"   
  
Martha thought a moment. "To: Rick O'Connell, London. King Arthur is coming to London."   
  
The pencil stopped scritching. "King Arthur?" he asked.   
  
Arthur said he was Commander of the Medjai but that doesn't sound right to my ears, she thought. Commander Arthur is coming to London? Remembering her dream, she said,   
  
"To Rick O'Connell, London. King Arthur is coming to London," Martha repeated.   
  
"Got that. I'll put the ad through to the Mirror. If he can get the paper daily, he should see it in tomorrow's paper. If not, maybe someone will point out your ad to him."   
  
"I hope so. It seems to be the only way to get a message to him. Thank you, Will. Stop round by the pub this evening and I'll make you dinner." She knew Will was a bachelor.   
  
"Will do. And I'll be there. Thank you!" he said as the door banged into Martha.   
  
"Ouch!" she said, then thought of something. "Will? Could you have that ad run for a week?"   
  
"Sure thing, Martha," Will replied.   
  
"Sorry about that. Hullo, Will!" Hullo, Martha!" Joshua Mills said as he hefted a sack of letters to be posted in that day's mail. The two men started to talk and Martha chose that time to leave.   
  
Leaving the telegraph office, she thought about Arthur and wondered how soon it would be before he arrived in London.   
  
  
  
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Lizard Point, beachfront home, dawn, September 24, 1940   
  
  
For his part, Martin had been much obliged to Ida for her hospitality. And like Ardeth, he could only feel a tenuous link between the men.   
  
Leaving Lizard Point the morning after Ardeth had left meant that Ardeth had passed Lizard Point sometime in the night, without Martin's knowing about Ardeth passing.   
  
This bit of knowledge had distressed Martin, for it seemed like the forces of the Dark One were keen on keeping Martin in the proverbial dark.   
  
However, as Martin knew that Ardeth was trying to get to London, he felt that he too would make his way to London and meet up with Ardeth there.   
  
So he'd left Ida Dunham and her hospitality, much to Ida's dismay. She had sent her two sons off to war, as she'd sent her husband off to the first World War, and Ida was much worried about his safety.   
  
Naturally, Martin had reassured her he would be fine. When she had inquired, "But 'ow do you know you'll be okay?" (and Martin loved the way Ida dropped her h's only at the beginnings of words), her eyes showed deep concern.   
  
He had studied her for a moment, then, knowing the utter fascination of the English with the minor boy-King Tut, he'd replied, "I'm a reincarnation of an ancient Egyptian priest."   
  
"My lands! A real reincarnated Egyptian in my 'ouse! 'ow did you know?" Ida had accepted the concept of reincarnation readily and Martin suspected that Ida, as a single woman living alone with her military husband deceased and her twin sons both active in the current war, would want to hang onto a concept of living again. He suspected the Egyptian concept of being reunited in the afterlife and reincarnation appealed to her senses.   
  
Precisely at that moment, Martin knew what he could do to repay her hospitality: he would arrange for her a position to teach English in Egypt.   
  
Martin shrugged his shoulder. "Dreams, mostly. Vivid dreams of Egyptian vistas, when the Pyramids were smooth sided with white limestone and the Pyramidions--the capstones--were gilded in solid gold. Those magnificent vistas were in the background as I stood in the Red Land, the desert, and looked upwards at the Pyramids. I could feel the heat of the desert and knew I was, at last, home."   
  
Ida had sucked in her breath. "My!" she'd exclaimed. "Wish I 'ad dreams like that."   
  
"You know," Martin began cautiously, for he didn't know how to breach this subject, then an idea began to form in his head--an idea which had sprung from the seeds of the conversation they'd had the night before during dinner. "I have had some employment in Egypt, and there is a need for the hospitality service to learn English."   
  
"Really? I thought Arabic and French were the languages of Egypt!"   
  
"They are. Arabic is a Semitic language, related to Hebrew and the ancient Akkadian and Sumerian languages. French, naturally, became a second language for many when the French conquered Egypt."   
  
"Je parle Francias," she replied, then laughed. "But not very good. I understand more than I can speak."   
  
"In Cairo, there is a growing need to learn English to accommodate the foreign tourists. I can arrange for you some employment. In exchange for room and board, you would be teaching English. You would need to re-acquaint yourself with adding your h's to the beginnings of your words," Martin told an increasingly excited Ida, whose eyes glittered brightly with the idea of going to Egypt.   
  
"Yes, yes. I can do that, add my h's," she said, then thought carefully. Speaking slowly, she said "Howard had help hanging hyssops high," she said. "And 'ow's, I mean how is that?"   
  
Martin smiled. "Teaching English will be a slow process anyways. You would need to speak slowly at first, then gradually increase the speed of your conversation to attenuate the Arabic ear," he said.   
  
"I can do that," she said slowly. "I won an elocution award as a girl and I only gradually dropped my h's as I grew older," she replied.   
  
"English did form from an archaic sub branch of German and there are a lot of ways to pronounce the vowels. And English has one of the most unusual vowels sounds of all--the sounds in 'bird' and 'heard'. Those sounds are almost unheard of in other languages. Perhaps one of the 'clicking' languages of South Africa has those sounds," Martin told her, deciding to cut short his impromptu speech on the development of the English language. Was there anyone else who understood--and enjoyed--the rather esoteric beginnings of his mother tongue?   
  
"Would I be able go to after the war?" she asked. "And would I be able to go to Palestine? See Jericho?" she inquired, visibly excited, and her reddening cheeks showed her excitement.   
  
Martin nodded. "There are many transports available to Palestine."   
  
"If you could arrange that for me, I would be most appreciative," she replied.   
  
"Not as appreciative as I," he told her. "If you hadn't found me, I don't know if I would have lived."   
  
She smiled, her white teeth flashing in the early morning light. "You are welcome. Here," she said with a bit of an emphasis on the 'h', "this is a bag of food: bread, onions and cheese. You can stop off at farms in Cornwall and Devon. It's nearing harvest time and there will be need of hired hands to help with the various crops," she finished, holding out a satchel to Martin.   
  
"Thank you, Ida. I will send word to my place of employment in Egypt and have them contact you regarding a position," Martin said, accepting the satchel of food.   
  
"Transport will have to be by foot, unless you can hitch a ride with someone," Ida continued. "Blackout and rations mean that fuel is used sparingly, and we 'ere in Cornwall tend to conserve fuel for the transport of crops," Ida said, and Martin noted Ida was making an effort to enunciate her h's. "Wish there was private sailing transport," she said.   
  
"That will come again. Do you know if the authorities have been notified of the Gilgamesh's sinking?"   
  
Ida shook her head. "I can get word to them about the sinking. They can see if there are any other survivors," she replied.   
  
Martin slung the satchel over his shoulder, feeling very much like a pilgrim making his way to London in the 13th century, when the paupers of England had to walk long distances by foot, begging bread at the monasteries, or exchanging their labor for a loaf of bread.   
  
"Thank you again, Ida. This is one thing I won't forget," he said, looking into her eyes. If he could, he would have wanted Ida for his mother: a warm, generous heart was all he required. Cooking was optional and good conversation was a bonus.   
  
She smiled at him. "Don't forget to try and brush your teeth," she said, paused a moment, then laughed. "'ere, I mean, here I am, reminding you to brush your teeth." Her own teeth flashed in the morning sunlight.   
  
"I won't forget, mummy," Martin said, a smile playing at his lips.   
  
"Well, on with you, then," she told him, waving her hand. "London's waiting."   
  
Martin looked shocked. "How did you know I was going to London?"   
  
She smiled slyly. "Let's just say a dream told me," she replied.   
  
Martin looked at her hard. A dream? But then, wasn't it the dream of every Englishman, Englishwoman, and English child to see London liberated from the daily bombs? Even the Princess Elizabeth hadn't yet reached her 18th birthday, and rumor had it she wouldn't be declared 'of age' as most 18 years olds are.   
  
Martin rather suspected that Princess Elizabeth was being protected by her parents, but she was always in the Windsor Gardens, helping to plant the war gardens, and she and her sister Margaret had bought large quantities of wool and were in the process of knitting for the soldiers. The Princess would make an exceptional Queen one day, and a Queen whose reign would be far-reaching, not to mention long-lasting.   
  
"Aye, I'm trying to reach London. I don't know how I know, but I know that my friend, Ardeth, is alive and well, and is on his way to London," he told her bluntly.   
  
Ida studied him for a moment before replying. "If I hear anything about him, I'll send word to General Delivery, London, at the post office nearest Buckingham Palace," she told him.   
  
"I'll be sure to check in there," he told her.   
  
"I rather suspect that word of your Ardeth would precede your arrival in London," she said, wiping her hands on her apron.   
  
Martin smiled. "I rather suspect that as well."   
  
"Well, then, I guess it's goodbye," Ida said.   
  
"Yes. It is. I will send word to you about the teaching position in Egypt," Martin said as he turned and began to walk down the garden path towards the main road. He began to hum under his breath: his clothes were clean, as was his body, and his stomach was full of good food and hot tea. He was at home in England, although he dearly missed Egypt. The desert heat, the remains of the Pyramids, the hugeness of the Egyptian setting sun; he missed all of that. Not to mention the baklava, the iced tea, and the conversations he had found himself engaged in as a Priest of Osiris.   
  
Ida watched his back. "Good luck!" she called. She watched Martin raise his right hand in response. His stride was long, and he was nearly at the garden gate when she had called out to him. Could it really be true? Did he really just offer her her greatest dream: to go to Egypt and Palestine? And at the drop of a hat, too!   
  
Ida would be teaching English, of course. English was her native tongue. She supposed she could teach English to a non-native English speaker. She would, of course, teach them to pronounce their h's at the beginnings of words.   
  
While she herself had tended over the years to drop her h's at the beginnings of words, she knew that speakers of Cockney, mainly residing in London, often dropped many sounds from their words, sometimes making their speech incomprehensible to those who didn't speak the English language.   
  
Her resolve strengthened as she turned back to the entranceway to her beachfront home. Just as she was about to enter, she paused a moment and looked around at her property. Her late husband had bought what had been a dilapidated property on the shore just outside of Lizard Point. Over the years that she had had with him, Arnold had refurbished the home and the gardens and the improvements had been quite noticeable.   
  
The Dunham home was the only home within sight, for Arnold had bought up the property on either side, going so far as to trade their four stallions for the property. Now the Dunham property stretched for a forty minute walk on either side of the house--a large enough stretch--Ida now thought, to provide for an exceedingly good subdivision after the war. Selling part of the property would net her a good income for her retirement.   
  
And the income would guarantee that she would be able to support her travels. Plus, she wanted to provide something for her grandchildren to inherit: memories of the stories that their grandmother had lived in Egypt for some years, teaching English and then traveling the world. Ida also wanted to leave her grandchildren an English Estate, replete with gardens and a large plot of land.   
  
Grandchildren were the one thing that Ida hoped her sons would be able to provide for her. For in the event both were killed, there would be a grand-offspring for her to love. Ida found herself fervently hoping that her sons were 'making merry' with French country maidens, maybe one with a small farmhouse and vineyard, and that one day, a young woman toting a young child would appear at her door, telling her in broken French that the child she carried was Ida's grandchild.   
  
Ida turned around, and looked at the dot that was Martin. She wished him well in his quest--and hoped he would find his Ardeth. Thinking of Ardeth caused Ida to remember that the sinking of the Gilgamesh would need to be reported, so instead of going inside her home, Ida took her coat off the hook just inside the doorway, put on her coat, shut the door, and went to inform the authorities about the sinking of the Gilgamesh. 


	14. Chapter Thirteen

CHAPTER THIRTEEN  
  
The Afterlife: The Myth of the Restorer of Ma'at   
  
  
"Gather round and I'll tell you the story of how Ardeth Bey stopped the Destruction of the Pyramids and saved mankind from destruction," Taita told the assembled children, who were new to the Afterlife, having just arrived in the Afterlife. Taita always had had a soft spot for children, especially children killed as a result of war.   
  
"Ardeth saved my mother," whispered one girl--a four year old, blond with Egyptian sky blue eyes. Taita smiled at her gently before beginning his tale:   
  
  
"In the time of the Age of Taurus, the Great God Imhotep, Architect of the Step Pyramid, received a vision from Nuit: "You are to build a Temple to me in the village of Djeba, in Upper Egypt."   
Imhotep replied, "I will do so, Goddess."   
  
"There is a block of lapis lazuli buried in the sands around Djeba. That block of lapis lazuli is my earthly body. You are to find my earthly body and construct a Ring and line the Ring with silver. Place my earthly body in my Temple."   
  
Again, Imhotep replied, "I will do as you command, Goddess."   
  
Then Nuit delivered horrifying news: her Temple would be ransacked by Hyksos a thousand years in Imhotep's future as the pastoral tribe ransacked Egypt and topple the Pharoahs for two hundred and fifty years.   
  
The Goddess informed Imhotep that the Hyksos would steal the Ring and travel with the Ring to the Delta of the Nile, along the shores of the Great Green. Late in the first half of the Age of Pisces, the Ring would be buried in the muddy bed of the Great Green when a terrible earthquake would strike the Delta region.   
  
Imhotep was horrified at the Goddess' words and told the Goddess he would ensure the Ring of Nuit would not be stolen from the Temple and taken to the Delta.   
  
But the Goddess told Imhotep the Temple of Nuit would be toppled by an aftershock of the Delta earthquake. If the Ring of Nuit was in the Temple, the Ring would be crushed under the stone pillars and the Restorer of Ma'at would not be able to use its power to save the Pyramids from destruction.   
  
Imhotep was saddened at the knowledge his architecture would be toppled, but he obeyed the Goddess and built her Temple soundly.   
  
The Temple survived the millennia, survived the invasion of the Hyksos (and the invasions of many foreign peoples). The Temple was only toppled by the earthquake late in the first half of the Age of Pisces.   
  
Near the end of the Age of Pisces, Ardeth Bey, Commander of the Medjai, had been awakened one dawn by the soft breath of Nuit kissing his forehead.   
  
She revealed to him that he was her Earthly Son and he had been chosen to return her own earthly body to her Temple in Djeba by the ninth day before the full moon or else the Pyramids would be destroyed along with all humankind.   
  
Ardeth travelled across the searing desert towards the Nile, rarely stopping to eat or rest. Sprouting wings of silver, he flew to the mouth of the Nile and dove under the waters of the Great Green. Under the waters of the Great Green, the Great Imhotep and Queen Lostris appeared to Ardeth. Imhotep and Lostris told Ardeth he would have their protection and help.   
  
The Great Imhotep used his powers to help Ardeth locate the Ring of Nuit and Queen Lostris cleared the waters under the Great Green and provided a dolphin to help Ardeth return to the surface. Retrieving the silver lined lapis lazuli ring from the muddy bed of the Great Green, Ardeth, with the help of his earthly priest Martin, again sprouted wings of silver and flew to Djeba. Once again, the Great Imhotep assisted Ardeth by showing Ardeth the location of the Temple ruins.   
  
Ardeth located the shrine to Nuit, buried in the sands by a dedicated priest. Placing the Ring of Nuit in the shrine, Nuit was able to resurrect her Powers. She dispelled the silver winged invader who was planning on destroying the Pyramids and humankind, depositing the invader directly in the Underworld. In gratitude, the Egyptian Gods granted Ardeth Bey the title "Restorer of Ma'at."   
  
"Ardeth Bey was the man who helped save my mother!" the four year old piped up.   
  
"He did! I watched him!" her brother, a six year old boy said as their companions started to get up and wander off. Story time was over for now. The two children had arrived together in the Afterlife, confused and upset and Taita had seen them standing forlornly along with hordes of other children.   
  
As the children dispersed, following Lostris as she danced and sang, Taita stood up, then turned--and stopped short. For there, standing in front of him, the Great Imhotep himself was materializing.   
  
"Greetings, Taita," Imhotep said when he had attained the Afterlife."I only caught the last part of the myth but you constructed the myth of Ardeth skillfully," Imhotep said, inclining his head. A golden light suffused Imhotep and also surrounded Taita in a warm glow.   
  
"And greetings to you, Great Imhotep," Taita replied. His mind was a whirl: for here was Imhotep, whose architecture and medicine Taita had studied all his life. Taita was about to continue his greeting to the Great God, then remembered the shimmering golden light meant that Imhotep had travelled to the Crossroads of Time. Taita had so many questions for Imhotep: architecture, the medical treatises Imhotep had written, poetry.   
  
He debated as to whether or not he should relate events from a future time--his own time--to Imhotep, then decided to compliment the Great Architect. "I was--or from your timeframe, will be--one of the travelers to your Pyramid who will leave graffito on the unused stones lying around the Pyramid," he told Imhotep.   
  
"Great," Taita thought to himself. "You finally get to meet the Great Imhotep--a very popular figure even in his own time--and all you can say is that you were one of the people who left--or will leave--graffito about him. Ask him something about medicine next time."   
  
Imhotep smiled, his white teeth showing fully. "The graffito has already started, Taita. It seems that the Step Pyramid is the only stone building in the world. People are coming from Palestine, Sumeria and from beyond the Tigris River to see the Pyramid. Traders from everywhere are bringing accounts of the Pyramid to their own Kings, and the traders return to Egypt, laden with gifts for Her."   
  
"The first stone building of its size in the world is an achievement that all the world should see," Taita said, his mind whirling, trying to figure out exactly what to ask the Great Imhotep.   
  
Imhotep's face looked strained for a moment and Taita realized that Imhotep was using a mixture of mushrooms to get to the Crossroads of Time. The fact that Imhotep was in the Crossroads of Time finally dawned on Taita. He himself had used the essence of the Red Sheppen flower while he worked the Mazes of Ra and the ordeal tired him beyond belief.   
  
"There is much I'd like to ask you, but I gather this is not a social call," Taita commented, the physician in him noting Imhotep's somewhat pale skin, telling Taita that Imhotep had been attempting to gain access to the Crossroads of Time for many nights--and the strain was showing.   
  
"You are correct in your deduction, and you are also correct in thinking that I have been trying to gain access to the Crossroads for many nights. There is something I need to ask of you and Lostris."   
  
"Of course."   
  
"The Restorer of Ma'at needs your help in expelling the forces of the Dark One from a great city far north and to the west of the Great Green. Can you help? I am afraid if that city falls, then Egypt herself will fall to the Dark One's forces."   
  
Taita nodded. "Lostris and I will do anything to help the Restorer of Ma'at. We know he has the Bracelet of Lostris, which was made to help repel foreign armies. It didn't work too well," he said sadly. "For Egypt was invaded many times after the Hyksos." Then he bit his lip, wondering if he revealed too much about the future.   
  
Imhotep smiled wanly. "The Gods told me that Egypt fell to the Hyksos. And the wealth of Egypt is too great for foreign armies to resist. It would be folly to think Egypt will be immune from foreign conquest."   
  
"We will help in any way possible. I will have Lostris contact the Keeper of the Bracelet and let him know what to do."   
  
Imhotep thought a moment, then his curiosity got the better of him. He had been a student of the Book of Thoth and he wanted to know what magic Taita had instilled in the Bracelet. "How does the Bracelet work?"   
  
Taita smiled. Magic never ceased to amaze him--invisibility spells, demon-repelling spells, cure spells--all the spells from the Book of Thoth, of which he was a student and he rather suspected that Imhotep was also a student of the Book.   
  
But Taita's studying of the Book had been surreptious, for he had discovered a torn copy in a ransacked Temple and had taken the Book. "Invisibility, for one. When someone is in great peril from an enemy, and is wearing the Bracelet, the spell kicks in without any incantation. All the Bracelet needs is the feeling of fear throbbing in the veins for the spell to be activated."   
  
Imhotep was impressed. Taita's feat with the invisibility spell from the Book of Thoth had improved upon the spell. "You improved upon the spell?"   
  
Taita nodded. "When the Hyksos invaded, I needed to have a spell to make myself invisible so that I might move about Thebes during the day, copying scrolls that you wrote, and that I wrote, then hiding them. I was afraid the knowledge would be lost. I nearly failed many times and once I was chased through the streets of Thebes by an entire squadron of enemy soldiers until I was able to jump in the Nile and hide amongst the papyrus reeds."   
  
"Rats are hard to avoid and spells take time to perfect," Imhotep replied, noting Taita's nod at his mention of rats. The two men shared a smile, knowing who the rats were, then Imhotep added, "You copied my scrolls?" He couldn't help but ask.   
  
"Yes. Your medical treatise was the one that I learned from, and I copied that scroll first, even before copying the scrolls I authored. I hid my copy of your treatise well, and I am rather hoping that the copy remains intact."   
  
Imhotep nodded, Taita's reply had confirmed that he too was a physician. "Since you are already in the Afterlife, you can have Lostris ask the Keeper if he has heard of a surviving copy of the medical treatise has been found," he observed.   
  
"You're right. Martin might know the outcome. Or Ardeth. Martin can ask Ardeth. I hid my copies very well...actually," Taita grinned. "I hid my copies in your Pyramid."   
  
"How?" Imhotep asked, surprised.   
  
"In the upper reaches. I caused smaller blocks to be carved out of the larger stones. Then, I cut the smaller stones in half and partly hollowed them out."   
  
"And that would create a niche in which you could hide something," Imhotep said, grinning. "It seems that my medical treatises are not all you read."   
  
"Guilty as charged," Taita responded, smiling broadly. "Engineering, architecture, medicine, poetry are all required reading in my time. I can recite chapter and verse from each of your scrolls, my memory is that good."   
  
"The scholars have decreed the same thing in time," Imhotep observed. "I see the young boys carving mud bricks and building mud pyramids while being supervised by their older brothers who are studying to be architects. What other spells did you have instilled in the Bracelet?"   
  
"The demon-repelling spell, modified and improved upon a bit. To repel the invaders, the Bracelet would be activated by being broken into three parts, then placed in a triangle. Like the Pyramids. Then the Spell of Osiris would be incanted."   
  
Imhotep smiled, highly impressed with Taita's improvement of the magic spells from the Book of Thoth. "Smart. Using the power of the Pyramids to repel invaders instead of the spell repelling demons."   
  
"With Egypt being invaded, invaders are demons," Taita commented and Imhotep nodded.   
  
"You are a man I would have liked to have known in my time," Imhotep said, a bit confused at his grammar in the Crossroads but he shrugged it off.   
  
Taita debated his answer a moment. "I, a former slave, would have been honored to be in your presence," he replied, deciding not to hide his roots. Even in the Afterlife, all he could remember about the place he originated from was that it was a mountainous region north of the Great Green.   
  
The four year old child from London most resembled him in looks and eye color, and he secretly wondered if the woman who birthed him had birthed other children who had migrated to London--the great city north and west of the Great Green.   
  
"A former slave," Imhotep observed. "I presume your former owner educated you?" Imhotep asked.   
  
Taita nodded again. "Lord Intef was my first owner. I was eight when I arrived in Egypt. Seeing that I had aptitude, he educated me. When I became old enough, I sought out other things to do: learn the languages of the slaves from the interior of Africa, learn anatomy by dissecting cadavers. When Lostris married the Pharoah and her father was required to give her a wedding present, she asked for me instead."   
  
Imhotep was intrigued. "Instead of what?"   
  
"Instead of one hundred feddans of prime irrigable land land and the five thousand gold rings Lord Intef had offered her."   
  
"She saw your worth as far more than land or gold."   
  
"But I am worried that it was me who brought the Hyksos to Egypt," Taita said, then bit his lip again. He wondered if he had said too much and if that knowledge would harm the flow of time.   
  
"I made a promise to the Gods not to reveal anything I learn about the future. I already know the Hyksos invade Egypt and bring her down. I also know the Temple I built to Nuit will topple late in the first half of the Age of Pisces." A promise made to the Gods was not done lightly and Imhotep greatly feared retribution if he revealed anything he learned. What he feared most was that his heart would be judged unworthy and would be eaten by Ammit.   
  
"It was I who informed Pharoah about Lord Intef's deception by evading his tax collectors," Taita responded, now realizing what Imhotep had realized: a broken promise to the Gods meant the heart being eaten by Ammit. "But Intef had already been fingered as the leader of the Shrikes, who had been maurading the countryside."   
  
"Then he was already guilty of betraying Egypt."   
  
"But he left in exile after I revealed to Pharoah the location of the hidden wealth."   
  
"He would have been in exile anyways, for he had already waged a war against Egypt by leading those who mauraded the countryside. Did the Pharoah have knowledge of Intef's leadership of the Shrikes before he gained knowledge of the deception from the tax collectors?"   
  
Taita breathed a sigh of relief. In the back of his mind, he had always thought during the long days of exile in Kush that Egypt's downfall had been his own doing. "Yes. Pharoah had learned about the Shrikes just before learning of Intef's deception." But another thought nagged Taita: if Lostris had chosen her father's wedding present of land and gold, he could have been kept Intef in check.   
  
"I see something else is on your mind," Imhotep observed. "Are you worried that if Lostris had chosen the land and gold offered by her father, Lord Intef's actions could have been kept in check?"   
  
Taita was startled. "How did you know that?"   
  
"An Egyptian physician is trained in all aspects of bodily health: the mind as well as the body. And," he smiled broadly at Taita. "I was thinking the same thing. My next question is simple: did the mauraders start pillaging Egypt before or after Lostris was married to Pharoah?"   
  
"Before," was Taita's instant reply. Then Taita breathed another sigh of relief. There was nothing he could have done to prevent the invasion of the Hyksos. When Tanus revealed Intef to be the leader of the Shrikes--the Akh-Seth--Intef would have already planned to exile himself. Decades of worry fell from his shoulders. "Thank you, Imhotep."   
  
"It is I who should thank you, Taita. For copying my medical treatise when Egypt was invaded and then hiding it in my own Pyramid. Next to the Pyramid, I am most proud of my medical treatise."   
  
"Then I prescribe this treatment: one flooding season along the shores of the Great Green," Taita said, smiling. "Even the Great Imhotep needs time to contemplate."   
  
"Prescription noted, and accepted," Imhotep responded. "I must leave now."   
  
Taita inclined his head. "It was an honor to meet you. May the rest of your days be blessed by the Gods."   
  
"That I am hoping. I will meet up with you again when it is my turn to enter the Afterlife. I suspect we will have much to talk about."   
  
"That we will," Taita said and Imhotep faded out, the golden light lingering just a moment longer. He didn't know why he had told Imhotep about his fears that Egypt's invasion had been his fault or why he had started the conversation. Perhaps that was the way of things: the rise and fall of nations over millenia. Perhaps Egypt had been meant to fall in his lifetime so that she might arise again, like a benu rising from the ashes of its own immolition.   
  
Was that the reason Egypt fell? To make her stronger? Taita had known many travelers from far-flung lands, and he knew many cultures told similar stories of long lived birds whose lives were ended in flames--a metaphor, perhaps, for explaining the rise and fall of a nation's fortunes.   
  
Taita decided to go look for one of the later Pharoahs of Egypt. Perhaps one of the Pharaohs could inform Taita if Egypt had experienced her second set of Golden Days--the first such set being in the time of the Great Imhotep and the Pyramid Age. He smiled to himself and hummed a tune as he went off in search of answers, in search of the benu that was Egypt.   
  
  
  
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Temple of Nuit, Djeba, Egypt, in the Age of Taurus, dawn   
  
Standing up, Imhotep arched his back. A temple servant brought him fresh water to drink. As the life of the Nile slipped down his throat, the golden rays of Ra peeked over the edge of the horizon. Dawn was always his favorite time of the day hours, for Ra's rays signified life was still strong along the Nile.   
  
He had been impressed with Taita. Impressed with the knowledge Taita had learned, impressed with the magic Taita had been able to work.   
  
Imhotep had also seen one thing he had never seen before: blue eyes. Although one of the Traders from the islands in the Great Green had been said to have blue eyes--and his daughter was said to have dark green eyes--blue eyes were unheard of in Egypt during his time and Taita's eyes were the color of the Egyptian sky.   
  
The depth of knowledge Imhotep had learned about the future astounded him. And he knew he would never reveal that knowledge. Imhotep was an honest man, and an honorable man. Once he gave his word, he would never break his promise. He supposed the Gods knew that and had entrusted him with certain knowledge.   
  
Finishing the cup of water, he handed the cup back to the waiting servant. Today would be a great day along the Nile. He had performed his duties well and his soul was infused with good feelings.   
  
"Your bath is ready," the servant said before nodding and walking silently towards the bathhouse adjacent to the Temple. Imhotep followed him, wondering if he would be willing to be educated like Taita had been educated by Lord Intef. 


	15. Chapter Fourteen

CHAPTER FOURTEEN  
  
Carnahan O'Connell Estate, October 1, 1940, mid-afternoon   
  
  
Weary was an excellent adjective to use these past days. Daily and nightly the Luftwaffe kept bombing: the Docklands were destroyed, homes had vanished, families dispersed.   
  
The unextinguishable fires resulting from the Docklands bombings had an unfortunate side effect: the fires made excellent beacons for the Luftwaffe pilots. And the pilots had unerringly targeted schools, train stations and railroad lines. London was running short of food supplies.   
  
Time and again, there was one train which managed to slip into London: Puffing Billy brought food and fresh military recruits to London. By unspoken mutual consent, foreign journalists vowed to keep the train's origination and termination points a secret, just in case the Nazis read the foreign newspapers.   
  
Most heartbreaking were the radio reports concerning London's children. The three O'Connell's wept openly when the BBC broadcast interviews with the children of London.   
  
Most of the villagers had either courageously returned to their homes, or had deserted London for safer environs in the country. Excepting Alex, the village's children were sent to the Irish countryside at the O'Connell's expense.   
  
And tonight the O'Connell's would shelter a dozen or so villagers whose homes were destroyed.   
  
But there was one incongruity which perplexed both the adult O'Connells: despite the intense nightly destruction of London and the high loss of human life, London's nightlife had, in the past few weeks, seemed to intensify. It had been Alex who had proffered an explanation.   
  
"See, mum and dad, my mates think we'll be the next to die. Tallulah died from shrapnel on her way to donate blood. It's like that; people think they're going to die, so they want to go out and have fun while they are still alive," he'd said with all his seventeen year old authority.   
  
The explanation about London's burgeoning nightlife from Alex didn't make sense to either of the adult O'Connell's but apparently the explanation made perfect sense to the rest of the world. Every day, the BBC broadcast reports about the foreign press commenting on "how the courageous young people of London went about their daily activities as if thumbing their noses at the Luftwaffe and the horrible destruction being wrought by the bombs. What spirit!"   
  
Radio reports were filled with news about how the two Princessess were buying yarn and knitting for the soldiers. England was especially proud of how Queen Elizabeth had decided to turn Windsor Castle into a farm to grow crops. Taking up the Queen's suggestion, Rick had thought the Queen's idea a splendid one and he decided to grow vegetables on the vast Carnahan O'Connell estate to supplement the meagre war rations.   
  
Evie heard footsteps thundering up the stairs. "Alex! Stop running! You'll wake the dead!" Evie called out as she tried to shoo the duck from the bathtub. "Ducky! You know water is being rationed," Evie told the duck. Ducky, for his part, ignored Evie's statements to him.   
  
The footsteps were now thudding down the hallway towards Rick and Evie's bedroom suite.   
  
"Mum! Ardeth's made the news!" he thrust a newspaper at Evie. "Besides, I already woke the dead!" he said, remembering how he'd used the Book of the Dead to resurrect his mother eight years ago.   
  
"Where did you get this? Did you go off the estate?" Evie asked at once, concerned for Alex's safety. The O'Connells had decided that it was necessary for someone to refresh supplies and to see to the villagers' needs, and although Rick had volunteered, Alex sometimes went in Rick's place.   
  
Evie had been concerned at first, for Nuit had told the O'Connells that they should stay on their estate, but as the O'Connell's and the villagers had quickly learned, it was safe to go about the village when the bombers weren't in the sky; Nuit would rumble whenever a Luftwaffe raid was imminent and warn the villagers to return to the O'Connell estate.   
  
However, the rule at the O'Connell's was that at least one of the three family members remain on the estate at all times.   
  
Now as Evie looked at the headlines on the front page of The New York Times, she felt her heart flutter. "Oh my! He's made it to England?"   
  
"Yeah, but to the wrong end. He's in Land's End. Read it, mum."   
  
  
  
Penzance Ferry sinks off the Cornwall Coast in Surprise Storm   
  
Land's End, September 25, 1940. The government-contracted supply ferry, Gilgamesh, sank in storm waters off Land's End two days ago. The ferry was on its way back from France to Penzance on an authorized supply run when the storm caught them unawares. "A freak wave nearly capsized the ferry," said the Captain Roger Wiltshire of Penzance. The captain and first mate Harry Blanch were found alive in the water, clinging to a piece of wood.   
One other survivor, a deckhand hailing from Cairo, Egypt, was rescued from the notorious Wolf's Rock, site of the sinking of the submarine SS Joshua Nicholson on March 18, 1917.   
  
Four year old David Dunlop, looking through a telescope from Zawn Reeth, had insisted to his mother that a man was shipwrecked on Wolf Rock, a treacherous rock outcrop 1.2 kilometres from Land's End. A sympathetic sailor, Thomas Wheaton of Savannah, Georgia, USA, in the true spirit of a seaman, went to investigate David's claim and found the shipwrecked deckhand clinging to life on Wolf's Rock. The deckhand's name was not immediately known.   
  
  
  
"It's Seth again. But Ardeth outwitted him. Let's show this to dad. He can wire down to Land's End and see what we can do to get Ardeth here," Alex suggested after his mother had read the article.   
  
"Is he really here? The paper says a deckhand hailing from Egypt was rescued." Evie didn't want to get her hopes up but hope flared in her heart and she wasn't sure if she could keep her face from betraying her feelings. She looked at article again, then at the name of the paper.   
  
"Where did you get this paper? It's from New York!" she exclaimed.   
  
"From a Canadian who got to town this morning," Alex said.   
  
"How did he get here? Air and sea routes are closed!"   
  
"He came via Toronto to Dublin, ferried to Cardiff, then came on the supply trains that are still running," Alex replied.   
  
"Not the Canadian, dear. Ardeth! How did Ardeth get to England?" Evie asked, a frown creasing her brow.   
  
"I suppose he'll tell us when he gets here," Alex replied.   
  
"Why hasn't he at least sent a telegram? He must have been in England for nearly a week," Evie stated, her eyebrows knitting in confusion.   
  
Alex stroked his chin. "That is strange. I'll go ask dad if he's received any telegrams," he said as he sprinted out of the bedroom and down the hallway. Evie's voice floated after him,   
"Alex! Be careful!" she called, then she addressed the duck.   
  
"I'm going to leave the bathtub to you, Ducky," she told the duck. Since the 7th, the male duck had made himself quite at home in the O'Connell residence, going so far as to make a morning ritual of flying up and down the stairwell each day--quacking loudly--as his way of ensuring the O'Connell household greeted the new sunrise.   
  
"Quack, quaaaaccck, quack, QUACK!" Ducky said to no one in particular, as he swam serenely in the bathtub.   
  
Evie left the bedroom and went to find Rick. As she went, she began reading the accounts that Londoners gave to the foreign press.   
  
  
  
Danni, Age 6, Stepney, London   
The bombs were terrible when they fell. I was having high tea with mummy when I heard a loud explosion. She motioned for me to get down under the table but another explosion turned the table onto its side. Mummy and me hid.   
  
And we fell asleep during the second bombardment. The next morning my mummy went outside to see the neighborhood. She came back and told me that my best friend's house was destroyed. And mummy told me my best friend Carol and her mum were lying dead in the grass of her front lawn.   
  
Mummy covered her up with a tablecloth. Then she did something unusual: mummy rummaged around the remains of the home and took all the food. She brought these items back to our house. Then she went back and took all their silverware. She told me she was going to keep the silverware safe until Carol's relatives can send for it. They live overseas and are glad to know their family valuables are safe.   
  
I heard on the beeb that people were looting destroyed homes for the valuables. Mummy says that's not what we did: we're safekeeping Carol's silverware. Her relatives know we have it for Mummy got word to them. Later we found out that Carol's dad and Carol's little sister Michelle were wounded but they left the country.   
  
Now we have to go to bomb shelters every night. My seventh birthday is in November. I hope the war is over then. I don't want to spend my birthday in a bomb shelter. I hate war.   
  
  
  
Paul Perlman, 41, South London   
He's got us where he wants us, all right. With the shape of the Thames, London is a no-miss target. But blitz or no blitz, the nightlife of London goes on. One would think that nightlife would stop, all the entertainment would shut down, with the Luftwaffe dropping bombs every night.   
  
But the young Londoners think they might not have a long life and you know how the young think: they might as well enjoy themselves for they might not be alive tomorrow night. So the young Londoners head out to their favorite pubs in Central London. The local council looks the other way when the pub owners stretch the licensing hours.   
  
Sometimes the hours are stretched all night. I usually like to go to the mess hall when I'm off duty--I'm a quartermaster--where a LACW will serve bacon, eggs and hot coffee. I know what you're thinking: an Englishman drinking coffee when you thought all English people drank tea. I like coffee better than tea and I met my new girlfriend while drinking coffee in a shop down in Piccadilly.   
  
Bad conclusion to draw, I know, but this is war and I'll take meeting a new girlfriend while drinking coffee over watching a bomb destroy a London neighborhood any day.   
  
  
  
Linda Burns, Watford   
My childhood semi-detached was bombed back in '18, when I was fourteen. I had been in the basement when the bombs fell and I was the only survivor from my family. My mum, dad, two sisters and my brother were outside in the garden when the bomb dropped on our neighbors.   
  
My family was killed instantly. Physically, I lost my right eye and three fingers from my right hand from '18. That didn't stop me from going to work though. I was fourteen and had no other family to take me in. The social people tried to place me with different families but I ran away from every home. So they finally put me into a gardening job.   
  
That was good work for my mangled right hand. That's what I do now for England: growing a garden. The Queen had a most wonderful idea of using Windsor Castle to grow crops for the war effort. The two Princesses come round to the estates to help with the work sometimes. Good patriotic spirit in Princesses Elizabeth and Margaret.   
  
When I heard about the gardens, I went down and applied to be a gardener. Now I go around to the various Estates and oversee the planting of the crops. That's good work for me, because the homes on my street were destroyed on the 7th. Actually, our street seemed to be overlooked when the bombs first started dropping at high tea time. But during the overnight onslaught, my house was destroyed.   
  
So I like the fact that I can get lodging in the Royal Estates as I oversee the planting of the war gardens. It seems like I'm destined to be homeless every twenty years or so, so it looks like I'll be in my mid fifties when I lose another of my homes.   
  
  
  
Hettie Williams, Chauffeur, Piccadilly   
I don't like to talk about the 7th. Karen can do that. In my off hours, me and the Brylcreem Boys go around to the coffeeshops when they come off duty. My regular job is to pick up the airmen coming in on Puffing Billy. Puffing Billy's the name is the name of the transport that brings in food and airmen.   
  
I won't tell you where Puffing Billy originates or terminates because the SS might have their eye on this newspaper and then bomb Puffing Billy.   
  
The Brylcreem Boys' CO gives a day off every four or five days. So the Brylcreem Boys come to London and I drive them around, seeing the sights like Westminster Abbey and the Tower of London. They're young and war or not, they need to unwind.   
  
The Brylcreem Boys keep me in nylons, lipstick and cigarettes, so I would like to say thank you their families in America for sending those items. I picked up the term cigarettes from the Americans.   
  
It's a wonder that my own street has escaped a lot of the damage but with the daily bombings, I suppose that will become a thing of the past. There are areas of London that the British soldiers won't let us drive through because of the fires, especially at the docklands, and the debris from the destroyed homes. The bombed out homes are still smoking.   
  
  
  
Karen Wilson, South Ealing   
Hettie might not like to talk about the 7th but she's just too shaken. I'm shaken too. Four hundred eighty eight people died on the 7th.   
  
When the planes first moved towards London, I thought it was a huge thunderstorm coming. I remember feeling a bit let down when I saw the thick line of black in the sky moving towards London at high tea time. English weather is wet and rotten on an ordinary day, and although the 7th was a nice, sunny day, English weather is known to turn in a heartbeat. So I thought: a squall.   
  
Then I went about setting out the silver for high tea. As I was pouring the tea, I thought: we're inland! That's when I knew the war had come to London.   
  
August 24th had seen a lot of heavy Luftwaffe activity. Portsmouth, Dover, Ramsgate, South Wales, Birmingham, most of the north-east coast and a lot of airfields were targeted with bombs. A few bombs dropped over Central London but the papers the next day reported that the bombs were inadvertant.   
  
We learned later that England retaliated for the 24th by bombing Germany. Apparently, Hitler didn't like our actions. Nobody in my family really believed that the bombs over London on the 24th were inadvertant.   
  
It seemed we were just existing in kind of a daze, waiting day after day for the bombs to start dropping over London. Hitler seems like the "take it all" kind of person--I don't really want to call him a man and I'm being kind when I say person--and he seems to be methodically taking over Europe. But he won't win. London will never fall.   
  
I have faith in our country. And I have faith in mysterious things, you know, those ethereal kind of things. Magic, some people call it for I've Egyptian blood running in my veins from my grandmother's side. And I just have a feeling that we'll beat Hitler and send him packing back to where he belongs.   
  
  
  
  
Evie, having managed to get nearly all the way down the stairs while reading the newspaper accounts, slipped on something left on the stairs. "Aaaaaahhhhhh!" she said as she fell rather hard down the remaining stairs.   
  
"I'm okay! It's just my rotten luck!" she called out to no one in particular. Taking stock of herself, she found that all she had bruised was her ego.   
  
Twisting around to see what she had tripped on, she saw a most unwelcome sight: Ducky had left a calling card on the stair.   
  
"Either he wears diapers or he will have to find a nice pond somewheres," Evie said halfheartedly. But she really didn't have the heart to displace Ducky.   
  
  
  
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Article in The London Times   
  
London, October 2.   
  
Carrying six survivors, the derelict supply ferry, Gilgamesh, was found a kilometer offshore from Plymouth. The Gilgamesh was thought to have sunk in storm waters off Wolf Rock (Land's End) on September 23. The captain, Roger Wiltshire, had thought the ferry sunk when a freak wave nearly capsized the boat with six lives lost. The six survivors, all crew hands of the Gilgamesh, after a medical exam, were found to be healthy, if a bit hungry and thirsty.   
  
The cargo of the Gilgamesh was found intact. It is not known how the ferry's crew survived without food for over a week, although the crew related the same strange dream of being surrounded in a golden light. The six survivors did express surprise upon learning the date, for they had thought just a few hours had passed. The captain expressed profound relief at the survival of his entire crew, whom he thought perished in last week's storm.   
  
The cargo of the ferry will be delivered to its destinations. Although the ferry did not suffer external damage, the captain thought it best to decommision the ferry, sell it, and purchase another. "I can't have the name of my ferry being bantered around the newspapers. You never know who is reading," he said.   
  
  
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The Afterlife, Sometime in Eternity   
  
Taita had found Lostris dancing with the four year old girl Taita had noticed earlier. Lostris had immediately agreed to The Great Imhotep's request (she had, as a child, been as fascinated with the Architect as Taita himself was) and she was now off in a trance, attempting to communicate with the Keeper of the Bracelet.   
  
While she was off in her trance--and Taita didn't know how long she would need to contact the Keeper--he decided he would use the spare time to get some of his questions answered.   
  
Spotting a young boy-King sporting the Double Crown of Egypt, Taita turned his steps towards the young King. Taita was familiar with Egypt's List of Kings and this young man didn't figure in Taita's knowledge of Egypt at the time of Taita's death..   
  
Then a thought struck him and he paused in mid-step: Lord Intef had given him--a slave--the opportunity for education, and he had used that knowledge to create the Bracelet of Lostris. By being one of the very few Egyptians to attain literacy, Taita had been able to gain access to the Book of Thoth--heavily guarded even in his own day but a ransacked Theben Temple had given Taita the opportunity to save a copy.   
  
And using the magic contained in the Book was going to help the Restorer repel the invaders of London, and thus prevent the Dark One's forces from re-gaining Egypt.   
  
Taita smiled. How strange things were, interlocking in circles. Lord Intef appeared, to Taita's mind, as a pivotal figure in history. First Lord Intef had purchased the eight year old Taita in the slave market, and then gave him the gift of education. An adult Taita had become Intef's right hand man, running the Grand Vizier Intef's business on his behalf.   
  
Later on, after Lostris had married Pharoah and requested Taita as her wedding gift, Lord Intef had betrayed Egypt twice before going into exile. Taita had given the knowledge to the Pharaoh of Intef's second betrayal of Egypt.   
  
Egypt was further betrayed a third time by Intef. And it came to pass that after ten days of waiting on the plain near Abnub, and nearly a thousand years after its invention, the chariot, wheeled with a solid disk and drawn by the Russian steppe horse, was introduced into Egypt by way of warfare.   
  
And Egypt had fallen quickly to the invaders. But during the occupation and pillaging of Egypt, Taita had sought to improve upon--successfully, by creating the six spoke wheel--the design of the chariot. And with his literacy, he had sought to create improved magical spells to preserve the ancient knowledge.   
  
A few of those improved spells had been instilled in the Bracelet of Lostris. Now the Bracelet that he had created would be used to expel the invaders of London--and the potential invaders of Egypt.   
  
Circles within circles. Was Lord Intef a curse? A blessing in disguise? Taita would never know, for Lord Intef was in the Underworld.   
  
He started to resume his walk to see the young boy-King but excited caws, meows and yips came faintly behind him. Turning, he saw running and flying towards him, his beloved puppies, cats and birds that had been poisoned by Lord Intef...well, Lord Intef had caused poison to be put into the sour milk that Taita had fed his beloved animals. He'd had the dead animals mummified and they had been waiting for him in the fields of the Afterlife.   
  
He was bowled over by his menagerie. The young boy-King noticed the commotion and soon Taita heard a cheerful royal summons: "Come! Tell Pharaoh Tutanhkamen what you have there!"   
  
Suspecting what the young king was wanting, Taita whistled to his animals and they followed him obediently as he walked over to Pharaoh Tut and made his obesiences.   
  
"You aided my predecessor, Pharaoh Mamose," the young Pharaoh observed after Taita had risen from his obesiance.   
  
"What you have heard is true, my King."   
  
"Tell me, may I have this puppy?" King Tut said, making a sorry attempt to avoid the wet kisses of one of Taita's puppies--a female aged just two months when she had been given the poisoned milk.   
  
"Yes, my King. She is yours. Her name is Lanata. She is a very lovable personality and enjoys sleeping with humans. Althought you might want to watch out for unwelcome presents in your bed upon awakening," he added drily.   
  
"Lanata was the baby-name of Queen Lostris," King Tut observed wryly as Lanata successfully covered the young King's face with sloppy doggy kisses. The two men laughed, and King Tut motioned for Taita to step along with him as they went off to find somewhere they could talk.   
  
  
  
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Horse hooves galloped fast over the countryside just outside of Windsor Castle. His mount was fresh. Ardeth had assessed the situation and had come to the same conclusion that Rick had: riding a horse was much faster than trying to catch a train which ran sporadically.   
  
He had found his journey through the mists of Cornwall to be rapid, and Cornwallian hospitality was the best on this side of the Mediterranean. Only his native Tuareg provided the same level of hospitality, for in the Sahara, when one came upon a tribe of Tuareg, one was welcomed for three days. The dessicating Sahara sapped the strength of even the strongest person, and the strongest beast. Three days was enough to rest and rejuvenate.   
  
The one anomaly that perplexed Ardeth was the Cornwallian natives' tendency to refer to him as "King Arthur."   
  
The "Arthur" he understood; David's referral to him as "Arder" was natural for a four year old for even the young children in his own tribe often mispronounced words. Martha's interpretation of "Arder" as "Arthur" didn't bother him; Ardeth was well aware of the differences in pronunciations by speakers of different languages.   
  
Nor did the moniker of King Arthur bother Ardeth. Conversely, he had discovered that upon hearing the gallop of the horse he was riding, the natives of Cornwall had been quick to saddle up fresh horses, provide a hot bath, hot meals, fresh clothes while his own were being washed, and a warm bed. All these were offered, even before he'd dismounted from his sweaty horse.   
  
"Ay, call down to the dairy and fetch King Arthur a fresh pail of milk!" someone would call as Ardeth's mount, sweating and tired, galloped up to a farm house.   
  
"Ay, call upon Mary to fetch King Arthur a hot bath and a hot meal!" came the call from a farmhand to someone in the house as Ardeth swung over the side of the panting horse.   
  
"Ready and saddle up a fresh horse for King Arthur!" came another cry as Ardeth's feet came into contact with the ground.   
  
Farmhands and stable boys would come running to tend to the horse and make ready a stable. And, as always, when possible, the Cornwallians drove Ardeth to his next destination, or as far as they were able, given the blackout restrictions.   
  
There were dark shadows underneath Ardeth's eyes, for he was sleeping less and travelling more. A bombing of some of the coastal ports meant that Ardeth had been delayed a few days, but he'd spent those days in relative comfort, regaining some of the sleep he'd lost, but the worry about his arriving in London weighed heavy on his heart.   
  
And for some reason, he had been unable to find out Martin's whereabouts. He knew Martin was alive, for somehow the Bracelet had formed a tenuous link between the two men. He rather suspected that knowledge of Martin's whereabouts were being kept from him by Seth. 


	16. Chapter Fifteen

CHAPTER FIFTEEN  
  
Cafe car in a rattling passenger train, English Countryside, early October, 1940...  
  
  
"Are we there yet?" the winsome nearly breathless seven year old boy asked Jonathan.   
  
Jonathan, for his part, paused with a cup of tea halfway to his mouth. He smiled at the child. Ah, youth! David McClure reminded Jonathan of Alex at seven. And at eight, at nine and at eighteen years old.   
  
He sipped his tea, heavily laden with sugar, and set his tea cup down on the table. The train rattled on the tracks but the sturdy white ceramic cup remained solidly steady. "We'll be in Cardiff in about an hour." He adjusted his thick plaid winter coat. The train's heating wasn't working well and there was a chill in the cafe car.   
  
"Are you going to come with us to Ireland?" David asked, brushing his dark hair out of his brown eyes.   
  
"Part of the way, yes."   
  
"How much is part way?"   
  
"I'll be introducing each group of children to the farmers you'll be living with."   
  
"Who am I going to be living with?"   
  
"You, Irene Dunne, Charles Whiting and Ada Ableson will be lodging with the Cashmans."   
  
"What do they do?"   
  
"They farm the land."   
  
"What do they farm?"   
  
Now Jonathan was sure that Evie had had a secret pregnancy and produced this child so strikingly in temperament like a young Alex. "They farm things," Jonathan waved his hand in the air, trying to stall for time, then picked up his tea cup and sipping again.   
  
"What kind of things? Things like shoelaces and sugar?"   
  
"Mmmm, more like potatoes and wheat. Carrots and cows," he sipped his tea again before setting his cup down. The tea inside the cup swirled around as the train wheels clanged against the tracks.   
  
"Cows are farmed?"   
  
Jonathan chuckled. "No, cows are raised. I meant the farm will have cows."   
  
"And dogs? I lost my dog on the 7th," David said, crawling up on the seat across from Jonathan.   
  
"What was your dog's name?"   
  
"Cuppy."   
  
"Cuppy?"   
  
David nodded sadly. "Cuppy. When she was a puppy, my little sister named her Buttercup. We called her Cuppy for short."   
  
Jonathan noticed the verb tense and said gently, "They might have more than a few dogs on the farm. Cows need to be herded and border collies are bred to herd animals."   
  
David brightened considerably. "Can I have some tea?"   
  
Jonathan nodded, and reached to his side. Opening up the picnic basket, he took out a large metal flask which contained his store of tea. Pulling out a clean cup and setting it on the table, he opened the flask. David's eyes watched as the hot golden brown liquid poured into the cup.   
  
"Can I have some sugar?" the boy asked hopefully, his tongue coming out involuntarily and licking his lips.   
  
Jonathan smiled and held his finger to his lips. "Shhhhh. As a matter of fact, I do have some sugar. Just a bit here, you see, to make the tea sweet. No milk though. Don't tell the others."   
  
"I don't like my tea with milk. I'd rather have sugar, please," David said, smiling in anticipation as Jonathan lifted out a small metal lidded container. Sugar was being rationed. Unscrewing the lid, Jonathan poured a bit of sugar in the tea.   
  
"Will that be enough sugar?" he asked David, and the boy nodded as Jonathan picked up a spoon.   
  
"You don't need to stir it. The jolting of the train will do that," David said as he pulled the warm cup towards him and watched the liquid swirl around the cup.   
  
Jonathan smiled as David picked up the cup and sipped. "This is good tea! Did your mummy make this?" David asked.   
  
"Oh no. My sister made my tea."   
  
"My sister died," David responded, and imitated Jonathan by sipping his tea again.   
  
"I'm sorry to hear your sister died. How old was she?"   
  
"Five. She died in July." David sipped his tea again. "She had a brain tumour."   
  
"Not a very nice thing to have in the brain."   
  
"No. She didn't like the tumour at all. It made her go blind the last few months of her life," David said, sounding very much like a grown up.   
  
"Blind is no good," Jonathan replied, also sipping his tea.   
  
"Do you think we'll go to school in Ireland?" the child asked, changing the subject.   
  
"Yes. It's a small village, but they have a school."   
  
"How big is the school?"   
  
"Not very big. There's about sixty children attending."   
  
"That's the size of my class in my school. Our school is much bigger than theirs."   
  
"The Cashmans live in a small village."   
  
"That's true. Small villages wouldn't have big schools. Will we have to live there long?"   
  
"I'm not sure. War is unpredictable."   
  
"Will I be able to send letters to my parents?"   
  
"Every week. Someone will pick up the letters and bring them over to England."   
  
"Goody!" David said as the train lurched to a sudden stop. "What's wrong?" the child's voice, full of terror, asked.   
  
"Stay here," Jonathan said and started to get up but a train conductor passing through the cafe car waved for Jonathan to sit back down.   
  
"There's a cow in the middle of the tracks up ahead and we're trying to move it off. No worries," the conductor said, tipping his hat, moving between the tables in the cafe car and trying to reassure the other passengers.   
  
"Whew! I thought it was a bomber plane."   
  
"I wouldn't like to see any more bomber planes," Jonathan commented..   
  
"Bomber planes are bad," David agreed. "You're going to go back for more kids to bring to Ireland?"   
  
"Yes. My sister and brother in law are helping to organize the evacuation. This is my third time accompanying kids to the countryside."   
  
"Are you going to accompany Michael Hall to America?"   
  
Jonathan looked surprised. "I don't believe so. Who is Michael?"   
  
"My neighbor. His parents were killed on the 7th but he has an aunt who lives in California."   
  
"California is sunny, and warm."   
  
"He said he'll be living in a place called Santa Barbara."   
  
"Don't believe I've heard of that city."   
  
"It's on the coast. I looked it up in the world atlas."   
  
"You're a smart kid. Would you like a bit more tea?"   
  
"Yes, please. And sugar?" he asked, and Jonathan nodded. "The others don't know what they're missing!" David exclaimed as he sipped his second cup of tea laced with sugar.   
  
"Where are the other children who are with you?" Jonathan asked David, filling his own cup with more hot tea.   
  
David put his cup down on the table and tried to look serious but his twinkling eyes gave him away. "We're playing a game of hide and seek. Irene's "it". I'm hiding in the cafe car."   
  
Jonathan laughed as the train engineer chose that moment to start the train. "Here we go!" David said. "You know, I've never been on a train ride before." The train lurching forward suddenly gave the tea a reason to spill over the sides of the two cups on the table.   
  
"Never?" Jonathan asked as he took a napkin and dabbed the spilled tea up.   
  
"Never. I'm kind of sad to be leaving my parents. But I am riding on a train!" David said, being excited on his first train ride despite his losses: the losses of his parents, his sister and Cuppy. David looked up at Jonathan, picked up his tea cup, sipped his tea, then said, "My parents are going to be spies."   
  
Jonathan was surprised. "Really?"   
  
"Really. They're going off and gather information and use spy gadgets."   
  
"You mustn't tell other people. That could get your parents in trouble," Jonathan observed. And David's mouth pursed. "But I won't tell," he promised David.   
  
"Promise? I want to go home to my parents after the war."   
  
"I promise."   
  
When he was finished wiping up the spilled tea, he put the napkin on the table and said, "Do you know what I have for you and your friends?"   
  
"Yes I do. You're going to give us a present." When Jonathan looked surprised, David explained, "Word's already gone around London about the Carnahan O'Connell's giving presents to the kids who are going to the country: games and clothes and chocolates and books."   
  
"Well, you have one up on me then."   
  
"What are you going to give us?" David asked slyly.   
  
"You'll have to wait and see but you'll like your presents," Jonathan's white teeth flashed at David.   
  
"Really? Truly?" David was excited, like all children expecting a gift, despite knowing what he and his friends would be receiving. "Can I see them?"   
  
"Sure thing. Why don't we finish up our tea and I'll show you."   
  
"Yippee!" David slurped the last of his tea before handing his cup to Jonathan. "I'll meet you at our seats!" he called over his shoulder as he slid off the chair and dashed down the aisle. Other passengers smiled at the young boy, knowing that despite his pain, a child's enthusiasm can be refueled for a short time.   
  
Wiping the inside of the cups with the napkin, Jonathan placed the cups in the picnic basket and picked up the picnic basket, and followed David.   
  
By the time he returned to the seats where he and the four children who were going to be foster siblings for the duration of the war were already gathered around Jonathan's luggage, jumping in their shoes and smiling.   
  
"We didn't want to open your luggage, sir," a red-haired Irene told Jonathan as he put the picnic basket on the overhead rack.   
  
"We thought that would be rather rude," Charles and Ada said together. They looked at each other and giggled.   
  
"Now, let's see what we got for you here," Jonathan said as he opened the suitcase containing the presents for the Cashman's foster kids. "You weren't supposed to get these until you arrive at the farm but I don't see any problem giving them now. Here, Irene. This is for you, and Ada, this one's for you. Charles, you get this one and for you, David, this one here." Jonathan smiled as the kids opened their presents.   
  
"Chocolates!" Ada cried, her eyes tearing up. "I haven't had chocolates in such a long time!"   
  
"I got chocolates, and a game!" Charles said, his eyes lighting up.   
  
"I got card games and chocolates too!" Irene said. At nine, she was the oldest of the dozen children whom Jonathan was escorting to various farms in Ireland this time around.   
  
"I got the same thing!" David said, then added, "and I got socks! Dig deeper," he instructed the other kids who followed his instruction and there, nestled in the bottom of the boxes, were six pairs of thick heavy socks for each child.   
  
"We're going to be the most popular kids in the village!" eight year old Ada said, swinging her blonde braids and twirling around so her pleated plaid skirt flared and showed a bit of her knickers. Irene blushed a bit and giggled behind her hand.   
  
"No! The most popular kids in the county!" Charles put in. He was a sturdy child, small for his age, which was seven, like David, but with dark blue eyes and dark brown hair. He had a sturdy tweed coat about three sizes too big for him, but with clothes already being rationed, people were purchasing or trading for children's clothes.   
  
"In Ireland!" David said authoritatively said. "We have games and chocolates and new socks. I'm going to save my chocolates," he indicated with a nod of his head as Irene started to unwrap one of her chocolate bars. She looked guilty, then nodded her head and put her chocolates back into the box.   
  
"Chocolate keeps well, even if it goes a little gray after a few months," Jonathan informed the kids.   
  
"Grey chocolate won't hurt us?" David wanted to know.   
  
"Not at all," Jonathan replied. "Now why don't you put your presents away and go find the other kids so they may have their presents?"   
  
"All right!" David said as the four kids put their presents into their own suitcases but leaving out one of the card games. The four of them went off to find the other children, which shouldn't be hard to do as there were only six passenger cars.   
  
Jonathan sat down. Then he stood up again, and took down two other pieces of luggage from the overhead rack. He could hear the rest of the children running through the train. Evidently David and the others had done what children naturally do: tattle.   
  
He smiled as a dozen children raced up the aisle towards him. Soon, he found himself surrounded by a giggling bunch of children who oohed and ahhhed over their presents. Their joy at receiving presents, despite their leaving London and being transported to a foreign country, helped him with his own grief. He missed Tallulah greatly.   
  
When the children were settled down with their presents, playing what looked to become an intense card game of Old Maid, Jonathan went back to the cafe car with his writing supplies.   
  
He wanted to write his sister again. He hadn't seen his sister or her family many times since late August. He'd been on a combination holiday and antique buying expedition to Liverpool with Tallulah. The two had holed up in Manchester the day the blitzkreig started.   
  
After making their way from Manchester to London by car, Jonathan had immediately volunteered to chaperone the children who were going to safer environs in Ireland. He'd left London the very day he'd arrived from Manchester with Tallulah and had perhaps an hour at most with his sister. Most of the children were true city children, having never seen a farm, or a cow, for that matter.   
  
The train rattled on its tracks and Jonathan hoped a bomb hadn't been dropped somewhere on the tracks behind them. He sat down at the same table he and David had vacated a short time ago, took out his writing supplies and laid out a small stack of writing paper. A woman came by and placed a cup of tea on the table in front of him.   
  
"Here you go, a cuppa. It's English Breakfast," she said, smiling. "We'd like to thank you and your sister for the food donations."   
  
"Thank you. It's never a problem," Jonathan looked up and smiled back. The woman moved on to the next table, where an elderly gentlemen wearing a well made tweed coat was sitting.   
  
He tried to start his latest letter to his sister, knowing she'd receive the letters in odd order; the three previous letters he'd sent hadn't yet arrived in London. Or maybe they had and hadn't made their way to the Carnahan O'Connells.   
  
Jonathan had some big news to relay to his sister. But he found himself staring out the window at the English countryside rolling along, smiling to himself at the big news he'd received just before the train had left the train station. 


	17. Chapter Sixteen

CHAPTER SIXTEEN  
  
Carnahan O'Connell estate, October 6, early afternoon   
  
  
"Mum! Here's a pile of letters from Jonathan!" Alex called out as he put down his heavy load. Evie and Rick had decided to take Tallulah's idea and try to rescue the valuables from the ruined homes in the bombed out neighborhoods. Rick and Alex had been going from house to house, carefully noting the street and location, and noting each home's valuables.   
  
Thus far, several paintings, crystal, antique furniture--sideboards were a special favorite, along with writing tables and antique writing utensils--English bone china, Dresden figurines (usually located in the basement or hidden in a niche in the floor of the fireplace), Turkish rugs, silver, jewelry and other items of potential value were identified, photographed, and were given over to the police for safekeeping.   
  
"Where?" Evie said, running from the kitchen. "Tallulah!" she called, stopping at the day room Tallulah used during the day to save herself some steps. "Used to use," Evie said aloud, a tear falling from her eye. "Every time I turn, I expect her to be there, or to answer my call. I can't get used to the idea we'll never share a laugh over a cup of tea."   
  
"It's okay, mum," Alex said, coming over and hugging her. Evie hugged him back hard. She pulled back from her son and wiped her eyes.   
  
"Here, let's see what Jonathan has to say," Alex said, going back to the pile of letters on top of the bundle he had brought inside. "Let's get a cup of tea. It's a bit chilly out," he said as he led his mother back to the kitchen.   
  
"You pour, I read," he instructed his mother as he sat at a writing table and taking up a letter opener. Evie nodded and starting gathering the tea things as Alex read the first of Jonathan's letters.   
  
  
  
Dear Sis:  
  
Well, here I am, on the train, rolling through the English countryside towards Wales and the Irish ferries which await me and my charges. It's a Tuesday afternoon, rain clouds are in the sky (when aren't rain clouds in the sky here in merry England?), hot Earl Grey is in the mug, scones with jam are on a plate. Train personnel are becoming quite accustomed to our donation of jam and sugar to bolster their food rations, so be sure to thank Tallulah a million times over for her foresight!   
  
The kids are finally napping after having having mobbed me with pleas, wanting to open their presents. Did you ever notice children seem to know instinctively when they are going to receive presents? Ha, ha. I remember how you used to be as a tot of four when our parents would come home from a short trip to the countryside and laden with presents. How you jumped up and down, clapping your hands!   
  
Some of the children expressed the thought that since they were going away, people were being nice and giving presents. How could I explain the presents were not meant as a consolation prize but as nice memory to hold onto while they were living in Ireland, waiting for the war to end?   
  
I did stammer out an explanation, but Ian Mathewson didn't believe me, for he responded that when people want you to remember them in a nice way, they always give you presents.   
  
The poor child! He was a foster child of nine years of age, flitting from one home to another and the family he was living with was killed on the 7th when their home near the Docklands was destroyed. Now he finds himself going to yet another home, and this home is in a foreign country. Does that explain his reaction? Would it be possible for Ian to live with us? Could we retrieve him from Ireland at some point and bring him home to live with us permanently?   
  
Tallulah had a most wonderful idea of sending ahead by post to Ireland large boxes chock full of everyday items: soap, shampoo, garden seeds, tinned meat, bolts of raw cloth and so many pre-worn clothes I think the children won't have a problem with their wardrobes--even if the war lasts until 1945.   
  
I know there are customs restrictions on what food items can be brought into Ireland, but that wily Tallulah! She stuffed the pockets of the winter coats with the restricted items, ensuring the pockets didn't bulge.   
  
And on the coats, both girls' and boys, she sewed thick collars of fake fur, stuffing the collars with the money she found in the streets after the Luftwaffe dropped their silver 'presents' on us Londoners.   
  
She told me there was no way of knowing to whom the strewn money once belonged, but the transplanted kids needed some kind of dowry, some kind of future while they are in Ireland and a hundred pounds to each child certainly would help.   
  
I was instructed by Tallulah to inform each of the children what is in the collars of the coats only upon arrival at their respective farmsteads. I further instructed the children to not mention their windfall to any other child in the village, to which the children readily agreed for they didn't want their new foster parents' farms robbed for the extra cash.   
  
It's to be their allowance, and I am thinking it would be an excellent idea to send along every few months a small sum of pocket money to each of the children I escort. What do you think of that idea, sis?   
  
Tallulah is so smart at getting around the restrictions, sometimes I think she might have been a spy in one of her past lives.   
  
Give Tallulah my love and many thanks for the help she's provided. She certainly is a busy person, helping with the Red Cross blood drive, organizing the shopping expeditions on behalf of the children, and that idea of hers to organize Operation Take Out for the retrieval of valuables from the bombed out homes sounds marvelous!   
  
And speaking of Operation Take Out, I've been asked by our government to travel to Scotland to arrange for the usage of the vaults for the duration of the war. I'm afraid I can't give away too much information about where in our northern neighbor I am to temporarily reside for a few nights, for I think some information should be refrained from floating around--just in case this letter is opened and read before it reaches its destination to you.   
  
I do have one idea: and that is the usage of the small islands off the west coast.   
  
I am hoping this letter finds you well. Give my love to Rick and Alex and I shall see you shortly.   
  
Love,   
Jonathan  
  
  
  
  
"He didn't know Tallulah had died when he wrote this letter," Alex stated sadly as his mother nodded in agreement and swallowed her tea. "It was posted on the 15th."   
"We only saw him for an hour while the latest evacuees were boarding the train. Is there any way to contact him?"   
  
"I don't think so," Ardeth said from the doorway. He'd been cleaned up and barbered quite well: his beard and hair were well trimmed and freshly washed. And his black clothes were well repaired and hung on him, fresh and clean. Dark shadows remained under his eyes, despite his sound night's sleep.   
  
"Ardeth! Could I offer you some tea?" Evie asked, jumping up when Ardeth nodded and made his way to the kitchen table. She was a bit worried about Ardeth. He seemed a bit, well, a bit deflated. Was deflated the word she was looking for? Something heavy was bothering Ardeth and Evie couldn't get him to talk about it although she suspected it had something to do with his arduous trip to London.   
  
Sitting down, Ardeth picked up a scone smeared with raspberry jam and looked at it a moment before tasting it. "Mmmm," he commented around his mouthful of scone.   
  
"You know, Ardeth, with the Bracelet and Nuit and the Gods, I thought your arrival in London would have been, well, I don't know, more exciting, I guess," Alex told him, copying Ardeth and picking up his own fresh made scone and taking a bite.   
  
Evie returned to the table with a large steaming mug of tea. "I would have thought that as well. But in the end, you just rode into London city limits on Thunder Sky," Evie told Ardeth as she too sat down.   
  
"It was kind of anti-climatic," Alex said, finding the right word to express himself. "You being Nuit's earthly son and all."   
  
"She did turn golden and rumble a lot," Evie noted. "When are you going to tell us about your travelling from Egypt to London?"   
  
Ardeth looked puzzled but smiled at remembering how Nuit had sent a breath of wind when he'd ridden onto the O'Connell's estate. "I will relay details about my trip later on. How did you know I merely rode into the city limits?"   
  
"The window showed us," Alex said around another bite of his scone.   
  
"Nuit's been showing us a lot of things through the windows," Evie explained, taking a sip of her Earl Grey. "Tallulah's been--did, was--gathered up a large quantity of food supplies."   
  
Ardeth nodded, a sip of tea in his mouth preventing him from speaking.   
  
"Apparently she'd been stocking up the basement store rooms since '36," Alex said.   
  
Evie looked at him. "How do you know that?"   
  
"I found a receipt in one of the bags and the clerk had hand dated it June 12, 1936."   
  
"Whatever could have possessed her to start stocking up on food and other supplies since '36? That's four years ago! She couldn't have possibly known what was coming down the line...unless she was prophetic."   
  
"She read Black Elk Speaks," Alex told his mother but his mother merely looked confused.   
  
"She had a copy of Black Elk? I found a copy in Kahn's the year after its printing. My people respect his Vision. And we, too, started storing supplies out in the desert," Ardeth said, wiping the corners of his mouth with a napkin.   
  
"Who's Black Elk?" Evie wanted to know.   
  
"An American Indian prophet, now living in the Spirit World with his grandfathers," Ardeth replied.   
  
"He had a Vision that foretold this war," Alex explained.   
  
"Apparently, few people heeded his word," Ardeth commented, borrowing Alex's word, then putting his napkin down and taking up another scone.   
  
"He foresaw this war?" and both Ardeth and Alex nodded. Evie continued, "When was the book published?"   
  
"1932," Alex supplied.   
  
"Seven years. He would have been held in high esteem by my father, I mean, by Seti," Evie commented.   
  
"Actually, Black Elk spoke his prophecy in May of 1931 to the man he chose to give his Vision to the world. He waited over sixty years to find the right person to whom to tell his Vision," Ardeth replied. "And that man was John Neihardt."   
  
Evie looked stunned. "Eight years. And few people heeded Black Elk's word?"   
  
"Few people bought the book, which went out of print shortly after its debut," Ardeth told her, swirling a bit of sugar into his Earl Grey.   
  
"How did you get a copy then?" Alex wanted to know.   
  
"Kahn's has everything," Evie and Ardeth said together. Evie smiled and Ardeth's mouth curled up of its own accord.   
  
Evie said, "Kahn's Bazaar was around during Neferteri's lifetime."   
  
"It's the oldest bazaar in the world," Ardeth commented, picking up his tea cup.   
  
"What's the oldest bazaar in the world?" Rick wanted to know, coming in the kitchen. "Ah, Kahn's! You're talking about Kahn's! Lovely place, full of things: old things, new things, fake things. So this is where we're hanging out now."   
  
"Yes. Tea, darling?" Evie asked, getting up and hugging her husband.   
  
Sitting down, Rick asked Ardeth, "Do you know where Martin washed up? You know the Gilgamesh was found with their crew intact?"   
  
Ardeth shook his head. "I know he is alive, for the Bracelet thrums. I did not know about the crew of the Gilgamesh. I am relieved to know they are all safe."   
  
"Who made the Bracelet?" Rick now asked, reaching over for a still warm scone.   
  
"Taita. He was the man Queen Lostris trusted most. She reigned in exile when the Hyksos first invaded Egypt, guarding the Double Crown of Egypt for her son, Prince Memnon," Ardeth replied, holding out his cup so Evie could refill it. She also refilled the rest of the tea cups, then stood up and went to refill the teapot and have another pot of tea.   
  
"Good thing Tallulah filled an entire storeroom with tea," she commented softly as Alex said, "See? I said the Bracelet could have been a relic from the time of the Hyksos."   
  
"He fashioned the Bracelet just before he died, and imbued the Bracelet with the ability to expel foreign invaders."   
  
"Magic?" Rick asked, sipping his own cup of tea.   
  
Ardeth nodded. "Yes. Taita appointed a Keeper, who was reincarnated as Martin Wilkes."   
  
"It seems like the Gods reincarnated everyone who could help stop this war," Alex commented. He felt very much a grown up, despite the fact he was 17 and very nearly so.   
  
His comment made Ardeth smile. "Yes, it does seem that way, doesn't it?"   
  
Evie, having finished filling the teapot with water and leaving it to boil, came back to the table. Sitting down, she said "There is one question I'd like answered, Ardeth."   
  
"Just ask," Ardeth said.   
  
"How come you didn't take a train or hitch a lift with the soldiers?"   
  
"Truth is, Cornwall natives did help me across Cornwall when they could drive. Most of the farmers didn't own cars. There were only a few trains, and they were headed towards the western coast," Ardeth told her. "I thought it much faster to get here on horseback."   
  
"With things the way they are, horseback was probably better," commented Alex as he refilled his tea mug for the third time.   
  
"Eleven days is not a bad travel time by horseback, considering I was delayed by heavy bombing for several days," Ardeth commented. "Besides, the Bracelet needs Martin to incant a spell."   
  
"We had talked about that. Would the Book of the Dead help?" Alex asked Ardeth, knowing how many spells the Book contained.   
  
"I am not sure. We shall have to await his arrival," Ardeth replied. "In the meantime, what can I do to assist?"   
  
"Operation Take Out?" Alex asked. "We could use a helping hand."   
  
"Operation Take Out?" Ardeth repeated, inquiring of Alex with his dark eyes.   
  
"It's a home valuables rescue operation that our late housemaid Tallulah thought up," Evie said, her eyes filling with tears for Tallulah, for London, for all those who have been killed by this war.   
  
"What does this Operation comprise?" Ardeth wanted to know as the teapot chose that moment to announce its readiness to accept loose tea leaves in its interior.   
  
"We go to the damaged areas, and house by house, we retrieve what we can, photographing and taking down on paper the valuables the owners possessed," Rick replied as Evie went to attend the whistling teapot.   
  
"And Jonathan's been up to Scotland arranging for vaults to store those people's belongings until either the owners can reclaim them or the government can locate the heirs," Evie called as she opened the oven door and a delicious scent exited the oven. She brought the teapot over to the kitchen table "Lunch will be ready shortly," she said, noting the expectant expressions on the men's faces.   
  
"I'd be glad to assist in any way I can," Ardeth replied.   
  
"How about I read another letter from Jonathan?" Alex suggested, and Evie nodded. Alex went to the writing table and returned with the remaining two letters.   
  
Using the letter opener, he slit the envelopes open, chose a letter and began to read as the rest as Ardeth, Evie and Rick sipped their tea, ready to listen Alex reading Jonathan's words.   
  
"This one's dated the 17th," he said and began to read the rather thick stack of paper.   
  
  
  
Dear Sis:   
  
What a battle to get through Irish Customs! The agents are checking everybody and everything--well, nearly everything. I thought for sure they'd find the forbidden food Tallulah had hidden but the agents never caught on. Good thing I distracted the nosy dog belonging to one of the Customs Agents with a bit of leftover meat I'd saved from dinner.   
  
The boxes Tallulah had shipped ahead were in the postal office, safe and sound, their contents undisturbed. I did turn over some of the clothing and a bolt of raw cloth to the postal clerk when her eyes narrowed suspiciously at the children's squeals. When I handed the items to her, how her eyes shined!   
  
She relishes the idea of helping out clandestinely and so has agreed to help me in future endeavors. You'd like her, Sis, she reminds me of Grandmother. Besides, we need a friend in the postal office, for someone might get a tad suspicious about the extra boxes coming through on a regular basis.   
  
I also provided our new friend with a kilogram of tea and a kilogram of sugar. I do believe, sister dear, that we've made a life-long friend and confidant, for the price of tea and sugar is rising fast, both here in Ireland and in England and the Irish like their tea nearly as much as we do.   
  
After hours of tramping through the hilly Irish countryside, the children have been settled on their respective farms. The government, in its infinite wisdom, failed to provide transportation to the farms, so we ended up walking to the closest farm, about twenty kilometers from the village the ferry dropped us off in.   
  
The children were so brave! They each carried huge boxes full of clothes and food and such items as Tallulah sent along and not once did the children complain about the heavy load. I rigged up a kind of sledge and dragged the heaviest load, but still, after several hours, I was silently cursing the government. The one bright spot in the day literally was the sun: how the sun shines here in Ireland!   
  
And naturally, Tallulah and I didn't inform the government we were sending ahead a large quantity of necessary items--some of them on the list of 'forbidden foods': the tinned meats and bottles of wine for each of the farm owners. Why Ireland doesn't want tinned meat and wine to cross its borders is beyond me. Perhaps they are trying to control price gouging from people trying to make fast money.   
  
I know you're asking the question: Why didn't your brother Jonathan ask someone for a ride? Well, Sis, I could hardly ask for a ride from one of the Customs Agents, for the government, again in its heady wisdom, wants as few people as possible to know to where the children are being re-located, even though we are providing the necessary funds to evacuate the children.   
  
Apparently, the government deems its Customs employees too trivial for such knowledge but with the many hours of reflection provided by our unexpected walking tour of Ireland, I have come to the conclusion that an invading army would want to interrogate the Customs agents.   
  
I certainly would want to interrogate a Customs agent, were I a member of an invading army. Customs agents are the guardians of the Irish economy and the CO of an army might suppose Customs would know to where shipments of items, including human cargo, would be shipped throughout Ireland.   
  
Upon reaching the first farm, where Ian is to be living for the present time, the owners nearly fainted when they saw us at the top of the hill leading down to their expansive farm. They immediately despatched their lorry to haul the boxes and children to the farm, but the children--bless them!--refused the help, and with a stiff upper lip, they walked up to the front door of the farmhouse burdened as they were with Tallulah's boxes.   
  
At the door to the farmhouse, the children did allow themselves to be relieved of their heavy burdens, and after a loo break and a snack, they were soon happily exploring the farm, with its cows, pigs, horses, and vegetable gardens. Ian, too, liked the prospect of living on a farm for a while, for he's never been outside the city limits of London, not even to see Windsor Castle--a trip every British schoolchild should take during their tenure in the educational system.   
  
The children were quite excited to be given an 'allowance'--especially an allowance so big, and the farm owners agreed to dole out the cash on a bit by bit basis. At the children's requests (and all of them were in on this, mind you. What mannered children they are!), I did turn over to the farm owners--a nice young Irish couple--an extra thirty pounds from the money Tallulah found so that they may provide extra treats to their own children.   
  
And, sister dear, I've some news, some big news! I've decided to apply to Children's Services so that I may become a foster father to Ian. I've grown quite attached to the stoic, though skeptical, little guy over the past few days, and frankly, I can't envision my future without having Ian in that future as my child--my son.   
  
I'm not sure how CS will like the fact that I'm unmarried, but seeing as how it's War, and with fewer foster homes and more children needing foster care--especially when the war ends--I am of the opinion the shortly I will have the approval of CS and that either I will visit Ian here in Ireland every so often until the war ends and then bring him home, or Ian will come to live with me back in London.   
  
To move on in my narration, I was granted use of the farm owner's lorry to drive the other children to their destinations. Too late, I realized that I didn't pack a map but I well remember Mister Duckworth in geography class at primary school, slapping our desks with his long ruler whenever he expected an answer to his questions about the geography of Britain, Scotland and Ireland. How Mister Duckworth trained us in geography and how I hated his geography lessons!   
  
Well, Mister Duckworth's geography training has served me admirably, for I seem to know the Irish roads like the back of my hand. Not once did I get lost or need to ask for directions, and not once did I ever need to look at a map.   
  
Sis, would you do me the favor of trying to see if Mister Duckworth is still alive? I know it's a bit difficult with the blitzkreig, but I'd like to thank Mister Duckworth for his dedication in teaching such an obstinate student such as I.   
  
I am unsure of just when I will arrive back in London. I said I would be off to Scotland on that errand I mentioned in my earlier letter (I am on the ferry to Scotland as I write this letter). Thinking about my sorry lack of foreplanning, I will have to rely again upon Mister Duckworths geography training to wend my way around our northern neighbor.   
  
I have been reading the accounts of the daily bombings in London. The foreign papers are full of commentary and the papers also say Hitler is not going to stop until he controls all of Europe. Over my bloody arse will he take London! Sorry, sis. It's the war, and my hatred for that ugly man coming out in my letter.   
  
Oh, one other interesting item the foreign papers carried, a blurb, really. It seems a small plane crashed in the Mediterranean sea. You don't suppose that plane was heading towards Cairo, would you? For I had the strangest dream that the Pyramids exploded but that Ardeth stopped the army in time.   
  
Give my love to Tallulah, Rick and Alex.   
  
As always,   
Love,   
Jonathan  
  
  
  
  
When Alex finished reading Jonathan's long letter, he looked up at the silent adults sitting around the table. Their tea had grown cold in their mugs, and tears were in their eyes.   
"A foster father! My brother!"   
  
"Can it happen that quick?" Alex wanted to know. "Will I have a...a...foster cousin?"   
  
"Apparently so, if Jonathan gets his way," Rick said.   
  
Evie sniffed a bit, and wiped her nose. Then she jumped up. "Food's beginning to burn!" She went to attend lunch: a steaming tray of fish, potatoes and vegetables. The O'Connell's were eating quite heartily, on occasion of Ardeth's safe arrival in London, but soon they would be rationing the supplies of food Tallulah had laid in, for who knew how long the war would last?   
  
"We didn't have much time to relay just what happened with Nuit and you," Rick told Ardeth. "He arrived from Manchester and left that same day to escort children to the Irish countryside."   
  
"He saw mum for about an hour before the train left," Alex now told Ardeth. "Each time he's popped back in London for a short time to pick up another set of evacuee children. He went to Scotland in between"   
  
"He only found out Tallulah died just before he went off on his third trip to Ireland, after arranging for the vaults up in Scotland" Evie said, then added, "Alex, could you help me carry dinner ot the table?"   
  
"Sure mum!" he responded as he got up and carried a huge bowl of steaming mashed potatoes and a plate of hot bread to the table. Evie carried the fish and vegetables and the four sat down to lunch, alone for the first time in their home since the 7th.   
  
The villagers had felt they were imposing upon the Carnahan O'Connells--which the O'Connells vehemently denied--but the villagers insisted they wanted to dine in their own homes whenever possible. "To maintain some semblance of a normal life, whatever normal means in this strange new world," one of the villagers had told Rick.   
  
Over Evie's agitated protests, the villagers returned to their own homes during mealtimes. Those villagers whose homes were destroyed were taking turns dining with the others. A few of the villagers had signed up with the Red Cross and were awaiting their overseas assignments. "Seeing as we have no homes, we might as well use the time to help others," they'd explained.   
  
Evie had been mollified knowing that Nuit would send warning whenever the bomber planes appeared on the horizon. Nuit seemed to hum merrily all the time, now that Ardeth was here and she occasionally would send golden threads of light down to whereever Ardeth was located, and the threads of light would entwine themselves through Ardeth's hair.   
  
The foursome ate their lunch in relative silence, each lost in their own thoughts. 


	18. Chapter Seventeen

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN  
  
Carnahan O'Connell estate, October 6, early afternoon, after lunch   
  
  
"Alex, while your father and I do the dishes, why not read the third letter from Jonathan?" Evie said to Alex. "I'm anxious to hear from him."   
  
"Is there anything I can help with?" Ardeth asked but Evie shook her head.   
  
"No, you've done more than enough already and I'm sure my menfolk will have you running to and fro with Operation Take Out," Evie replied.   
  
Rick faked being offended. "Why do I have to do dishes then?"   
  
"Because I want to stand next to you," his wife whispered to him, which caused a huge grin to play on Rick's face as he willingly followed his wife to the kitchen sink.   
  
Alex picked up the third letter from Jonathan. "It's postmarked Edinburgh and posted on the 23rd of September," he said as he started reading the rather thick stack of paper.   
  
  
  
  
Dear Sis,   
  
Continuing from my last letter, after the relatively smooth ferry ride across the Irish Sea, I landed upon the shores of western Scotland, in a tiny fishing village located in the Solway Firth, my legs barely able to support my weight on land. It appears that I have developed sea legs and a taste for the salt air on my face (and in my hair and permeating my clothes).   
  
Once again, despite their arranging this part of my extensive travels around our mother land, our government failed to provide adequate transportation and instead relied upon a graduate of their esteemed educational system to wend his way around Scotland on foot or by thumbing a ride.   
  
Having landed near Hadrian's Wall, I finagled a ride with a lorry driver for about thirteen kilometers along the Wall before we turned northwards through Gretna Green. There are advantages to traveling along the backroads, for I stayed the night in the village where William Wallace is rumoured to have been born, although the exact date and place of his birth are yet unknown.   
  
From the village, I was able to take a small private supply plane to my next destination and I will be able to catch a return ride all the way to Liverpool, thereby cutting my travel time back to London drastically.   
  
I was able to get these plane rides because the pilots needed not only the supplies I was willing to barter (the tea, all my books, all my extra clean and dry socks, my leather bomber jacket, my thick tweed coat and remaining chocolates came in quite handy and not to mention cut way down on the weight of my luggage!) but they also needed the conversation. So, willingly, I bartered my supplies for the plane ride.   
  
Nevertheless, I did manage to acquire my target relatively safely and without major hassle. The vaults are being readied and the transport of the goods to our northern neighbors is arranged.   
  
The owners of the vaults expressed surprise at the northern location our two governments chose for the storage, but I pointed out that even with permanent British Summer Time, night time in our northern neighbor comes early and anyone flying in to raid the goods would have precious little daylight in which to carry out their operations.   
  
Of course, we are now approaching winter and in anticipation of next summer's double British Summer Time, there is a greater opportunity for the goods to be discovered and ransacked should Hitler be successful in his endeavor to take down England.   
  
Whereever did our esteemed Parliament get come up with 'double British Summer Time?' Summer time itself confuses me and the double summer time order absolutely confounded my mind! Now, with fall in the air, we are back on permanent summer time. I have had ample time to wonder about Parliament--it seems that food rationing has affected their analytical abilities.   
  
I mentioned in my last letter that I was applying to Children's Services to become Ian Mathewson's foster father and I am pleased my application was accepted. The CS worker looked rather skeptical that an unmarried man of my 'years' would want to become a foster father but I assured her that I was quite willing, after having helped raise Alex.   
  
And I am not so old, am I? I certainly don't think so, but when one approaches the age at which one expects to live as many years in the future that they have lived in the past, one tends to reflect more upon their mortality.   
  
As soon as I've posted this letter, I shall be off in a private plane towards that industrial city of Liverpool, the pilot wearing my bomber jacket. It looks rather striking on him, if I say so myself.   
  
I am expecting, barring extreme circumstances, to be back in London by the end of September, in time for the next transport of children to the Irish countryside. I apologize if there isn't much time to spend with you in between trips to evacuate the children, sister dear, and that is the reason for my rather extensive letters.   
  
I am running short on writing paper, and I shall have need of you to purchase several reams of writing paper for me, and if you would so kindly arrange it, you would please me greatly. But as I am nearing the end of this round of traveling, I can make do with a greatly reduced stack of writing paper. It does lighten my load a lot, and my weary arms are thanking me greatly!   
  
As I hear the pilot--another Jonathan by name, Jonathan Wilkes-- shouting at me to 'get my arse in gear' I shall end this letter with my usual words,   
  
Always much love,   
Jonathan  
  
  
  
"He really means to become a foster father," Alex commented as he put down Jonathan's letter on the table.   
  
"I suppose so. He didn't say anything about it during his brief--very brief--time in London before he went out with the children again," Evie said. "But I rather like the idea of his being a foster father."   
  
"As do I. I've never had a sibling before," Alex commeted.   
  
"Did you ever want a sibling?" Rick asked his son.   
  
"I never much thought about it," Alex replied.   
  
"Ardeth, while we're finishing up, do we get to hear your story now?" Evie asked.   
  
"You are an insistent one, aren't you? I shall tell you all my story later on, as I've replied before," Ardeth said. "Now, Rick, Alex, tell me about Operation Take Out."   
  
"Well, today we're going to the neighborhood near the Docklands. We'll go house by house, rummage around to see if there are any valuables worth salvaging. Those items we find, we photograph, take a note of the location and item, then put the item in our lorry," Alex told Ardeth.   
  
"I shall do the rummaging," Ardeth said. "I don't think I'm very good with photographs," he finished, sipping a fresh cup of tea.   
  
"Then I'll do the photographing, and dad can do the inventory. His handwriting's much better than mine," Alex said.   
  
"Ok, men. Let's go. Evie, you sure you'll be all right here?"   
  
"Of course, dear. Take care," Evie said, hugging her husband and son.   
  
"Nuit will rumble to let us know when the Luftwaffe is on the horizon," Alex said.   
  
"The Docklands are a bit far for Nuit to rumble," Evie noted.   
  
"Not with Ardeth here. She'll protect him," Alex replied as the men filed out the door, Ardeth silent and very preoccupied.   
  
"I wonder what happened to rattle him like that?" Evie said to herself as she went to sit down for an after lunch cup of tea, then thought better and went to the loo instead.   
  
  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Early October. Letter from Jonathan, lying on the table at the farmhouse where Ian Mathewson is staying. Jonathan is preparing an envelope to post to his sister   
  
  
  
Dear Sis,   
  
The English folk never cease to amaze me. As I traveled for the third time across rainy England to relatively sunny Ireland (and I've big news later on in this letter), the children and I were watching from the train windows the English country folk prepare an amazingly large load of supplies.   
  
Several people who boarded the now-infrequent passenger train to Wales told us the legend is going around western England that King Arthur would be arriving in London to liberate the beseiged city, and that King Arthur would be the recipient of all the supplies he would need: food as well as young men and women ready to help with paper work, Red Cross, whatever needs to be done.   
  
I presume the English countryfolk are meaning Ardeth, who apparently has arrived in England safely, and that Arthur is the English pronunciation of his name. I have to comment that I am rather pleased to know King Arthur will be assisting us--I will try to avoid having him move stones this time around!   
  
You will be pleased to know that our compatriots in the countryside are sending along fresh vegetables, fresh chickens (keep some on the estate!), eggs, and something we've not had in a long time: cheddar cheese. Yes, the small town of Cheddar will be sending along to London thousands of wheels of cheese (both ripe and unripe; and the unripened wheels can be stored in your wine cellar until they are ready)--all by horse power provided for by the Cornish natives.   
  
To move on, Irish Customs was its usual pleasant self. Missing their dogs, and bringing man's best friend to work with them, more of the Agents' dogs are sniffing the arriving luggage, much to the dismay of the owners. The Agents don't seem to understand that the dogs' noses can smell food hidden in secret compartments and that the dogs' insistent pawing and barking at luggage which has already been inspected means that there is something edible hidden in a secret compartment.   
  
Leave it to the dogs to sniff out something edible! I suppose they are hungry too, for with food rationing, the dogs also get less to eat. I had thought of that, and brought along a few dozen bags of dried dog food, which I gave to the Customs agents. Surprised, and pleased, they opened a bag and fed the dogs, who left my luggage alone!   
  
The last shipment of boxes that our beloved Tallulah sent ahead before she passed on was awaiting me at the post office. Our newest friend was more than pleased to hide the boxes for us. It appears that my earlier worries that someone might nose around at a large quantity of boxes being shipped to the same postal office and grow suspicious were bang on.   
  
Five kilograms of tea this time around has more than bought the eternal gratitude of our lady friend. I tallied up the amount of tea Tallulah has stored in one of the old wine cellars.   
  
Over three hundred kilograms of tea! For how long was she purchasing tea? With that quantity, Tallulah must have been going to and fro to the tea merchants for several years. She must have thought we would need to feed an army, but with the blitz and the depressed economy, I suppose if necessary, we could barter the tea for whatever other supplies we need.   
  
This time around to Ireland, I was prepared and had a lorry waiting for me to drive the children and their boxes full of necessities to their various destinations. Despite being separated from their parents, the children seem to be happy to be in Ireland--away from the daily bombings, the air raid drills, the long nights packed tighter in the bomb shelters than they would be had they been packed into a sardine can.   
  
The fresh air, the smells of the farm, and passing hour after hour without hearing the squeal as bombs drop from the underbelly of a Messerschmitt seem to have improved the dispositions of even the most irascible of the children.   
  
And naturally, word going around London that the children Jonathan Carnahan escorts to the countryside will receive presents of chocolate, socks, and games had my latest charges pestering me for their presents even before the train left the station. I do hope, sister dear, that we will not run out of games, or socks, or chocolates, for the transported children would be sorely disappointed!   
  
After I had seen the last of the children to their foster parents, I returned back to the farm where I had left Ian Mathewson on my first trip to Ireland. Sister dear, this is the big news I alluded to at the beginning of my letter!   
  
Children's Services has approved me as a foster father to Ian, with the very potential possibilty of my becoming his adoptive parent! I was to relay the official letter to Ian in person, to gauge his reaction. I admit, I was at a loss for words when the CS worker informed me I was to be a foster father. Their turnaround time on my application was absolutely astounding!   
  
I am sorry, sis, that I didn't tell you the news before I left London this last time around. I was afraid that, somehow, the news wasn't true and I sorely needed time to digest the news.   
  
During the train ride, and between being amazed at the industrious English country folk and the children, I was distracted a lot and tried to figure out a way to let Ian know he is to have me as a foster father. But I had no need to worry, Ian was more than pleased to know that I was to be his foster father but, in his words, "Dad, can I stay here at the farm for a while longer? I don't like the sound of the bombs over London."   
  
He called me 'dad' straight away. Ian told me that the time I spent talking with him on the trip over to Ireland was the most time anyone had ever spent with him in his entire life. He'd been sorely wanting to stay on with me. He showed me a letter he had written to me but hadn't sent because he was scared of being rejected. And in his letter, he told me he wished I could be his foster father.   
  
His wish--and mine--came true.   
  
Ian wants to remain on the farm and I think that's a splendid idea. The owners have two children of their own but not nearly enough farm help, for with the war, most of the young men have left their villages to sign up.   
  
The work isn't too strenuous, for CS sees to it the children are not turned into free farm help, but there are farm chores that the children can do (milking and mucking and such), and knowing that the vegetables they're picking, washing and packing are going to London cheers the children and gives them self-confidence..   
  
The sun, and the extra food have transformed my new foster son--and the three other foster kids--into healthy, happy children inside of a few short weeks, and I want Ian--and the other kids--to remain that way.   
  
I shall be staying on the farm a few weeks, to get the most time with Ian; I was only scheduled for three trips but should the need arise to evacuate more children, I am only a telegram away.   
  
And as always, I remain,   
Your loving brother,   
Jonathan  
  
  
  
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	19. Chapter Eighteen

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN  
  
Docklands area, early October, afternoon   
  
  
Ardeth was digging through the remains of a house near the destroyed Docklands, the last house on the street. Nothing much remained of the dwellings nearest the heavily industrial Docklands, and even less remained of the homes' contents as a result of the conflagration.   
  
"Hey, there, friend, you've been quiet all afternoon," Rick told Ardeth as he came up behind the Medjai. "Would it help if I told you there's a hot dinner waiting at home?"   
  
"Dinner is always appreciated," Ardeth responded, dodging what he knew Rick was trying to ask.   
  
Picking up on Ardeth's reluctance to relay the details of his trip, Rick commented, "This street is pretty well destroyed. Imhotep at his worst didn't match the destruction wrought here. We've recovered a set of partially melted silverware and one painting that had been protected by the sofa when the painting fell behind the sofa."   
  
"The Dark One's forces were pretty thorough," Ardeth agreed. Then he cocked his head, listening. "Do you hear that?"   
  
"Planes? Wouldn't Nuit warn us if the planes were coming?" Rick grew instantly wary.   
  
"It is not the whine of a bomber plane. It is the whine of a dog," Ardeth replied. He answered the faint whine with a high pitched whine of his own.   
  
Two barks, weak, sounded to the right of where Rick was standing. Rick and Ardeth both went towards the sound of the barks. Rick whined, then Ardeth whined. More barks came from underneath a pile of wood which used to comprise the roof of a house. Rick and Ardeth started moving the rubble, accompanied by happy, though weak, barks.   
  
Ardeth kneeled down and peered in the hole he and Rick had made in the rubble. Two bright eyes peered back at him and a pink tongue came out a dark mouth and tried to lick his face. Ardeth moved away, a smile on his face despite his sadness, and started to clear more rubble.   
  
A scraggly, hungry-thin retriever wriggled out of the hole. Getting up on shaky feet, the dog shook its tail and put a wet nose into Ardeth's hand. "Well, who do we have here?" he asked the dog, petting the dog's matted, dirty coat.   
  
"There we go! Life appears from the rubble," Rick commented as Alex came up beside the two men and the dog.   
  
"Dad! Where did he come from?" Alex asked his father as he knelt down to pet the dog. "Hey there, boy! You okay? You want some food? Some water?"   
  
Rick took note of the address the dog was found in while Alex led the dog over to the lorry the O'Connell's were using. Reaching into the front seat of the lorry, Alex pulled out some leftover meat.   
  
"Alex? Don't give him too much at first. Just a tad, or else he'll throw it up," Rick called out to his son. The dog sniffed the meat, then accepted the meat and wolfed it down.   
  
"Slow down there, fella! Don't want you to get sick!" Alex said, petting the dog. "Want some water?" Alex asked as he rummaged around and pulled out a bowl. He poured some water into the bowl and set the bowl down on the ground. The dog drank thirstily.   
  
Rick and Ardeth made their way over to the lorry. "We're finished up on this street, Alex. Let's move on to the next street."   
  
The dog barked for more water and Rick bent down to pet the dog. "Not too much at first, boy. We'll give you more later on. Want to go for a ride?" he asked the dog, who barked and jumped into the lorry.   
  
Ardeth smiled. "He's happy to see people again. I wonder how long he's been down in the rubble. Part of the roof collapsed quite recently."   
  
"The Docklands were destroyed on the 7th, so it's nearly a month," Alex said, reaching in and petting the dog.   
  
"How can you tell the roof collasped recently?" Rick asked of Ardeth.   
  
"The wood splinters were fresh and yellow. Time in the elements would have discolored the wood," Ardeth replied. The dog barked happily at the attention from Alex and rolled over against the back of the seat, asking Alex to rub its stomach.   
  
"Can we keep him? Please?" Alex inquired, looking at the dog. "Ooops. He's a she. "We're already stabling Thunder Sky until he can be returned to his owner."   
  
"Of course, but only until we can locate her owners."   
  
"Can we go to the Times and place an ad?" Alex asked his father.   
  
"Speaking of the Times, Ardeth, how did you know to place an ad in the newspaper?"   
  
"It was not I who placed the ad. It was Martha Dunlop, from Land's End. I asked her to try and contact you here in London."   
  
"That's why you didn't send a telegram!" Rick exclaimed.   
  
"I had asked her to send a telegram. She must have placed the ad as well or instead of the telegram. Anyways, I am here. And I need to find Martin," Ardeth's voice sounded melancholy.   
  
The dog whined and tried to get Ardeth's attention. He responded without thinking and petted the dog. He remained silent as he petted the dog.   
  
"Dad, let's go check for the mail that's come through. Maybe another letter came from Jonathan."   
  
"Excellent idea. Ardeth?"   
  
Ardeth nodded and the three men climbed into the lorry. The dog sat on Ardeth's lap, with its nose out the window, sniffing the air as Rick carefully drove the lorry around the debris. The men were silent, looking on in horror as the lorry wended its way around the destruction the Luftwaffe had wrought with their incendiary bombs over London.   
  
Once at the temporary post office, Rick and Alex went to inquire about their mail while Ardeth waited outside next to the lorry. The dog was taking short runs away from Ardeth, then coming back and jumping up on Ardeth's chest. He couldn't help but smile at the dog's antics.   
  
"Friendly girl, aren't you?" he asked her, petting her (much to her delight!) "What's your name? I'll call you, what shall I call you? Khuta? Would you like that name?"   
  
The newly renamed Khuta merely barked as Rick and Alex came out carrying heavy boxes.   
  
"Can I help?" Ardeth asked.   
  
"There's more inside. Most of them are for you," Alex replied.   
  
Ardeth looked surprised.   
  
"Here, take a look," Rick told him, showing him a box addressed to King Arthur, c/o Rick O'Connell, London. "It's from your friends in Cornwall," Rick continued and smiled at Ardeth. "You certainly were popular during your stay in Cornwall."   
  
"Apparently so," Ardeth replied and went inside to help load the boxes. Khuta followed him, barking happily at her new-found master. Ardeth soon emerged from the postall office laden with two heavy boxes.   
  
"Ardeth! This letter's from the Dunlops," Alex said as he began to read a letter from David and Martha Dunlop. Ardeth put the two boxes down then went to stand beside Alex as he read the letter.   
  
_________________  
  
  
Dear King Arthur,   
Mummy says that I am to write and say thank you once again for telling me a bedtime story. I really enjoyed hearing Siosire and the Magician of Nubia! Mummy's been reading to me stories about Egypt.   
  
I drew this picture of you on our stallion. Here it is! I hope you enjoy it.   
  
Love,   
David   
  
(transcribed by his mum)   
  
ps from Martha: The Town of Land's End is sending along the enclosed items for the Red Cross. A Canadian warship passed off the western coast. Thomas Wheaton had wired to the ship's crew and they gathered these things for those made homeless in London by the Nasty Man. Thomas and David went out on the boat to pick up the supplies.   
  
Your obedient servants,   
Martha Dunlop and David   
  
  
__________________  
  
Ardeth's eyes teared up as he looked at the surprisingly well drawn picture of himself on the back of a black stallion. In the moonlight, the stallion was rearing up and two swords were crossed in an 'X" shape on Ardeth's back.   
"Quite the artist, being just four," Rick commented, looking at the drawing.   
  
"Exceptionally well drawn. Art school is in his future," Ardeth replied, quite impressed and touched by David's letter. He put the letter and drawing into a pocket in his black robes.   
  
"Dad!" Alex exclaimed. "Take a look at the Dunlops sent!" He had opened one of the boxes from Martha Dunlop. Inside were dozens of pairs of knitted socks, blankets, sweaters, tinned food, sweets, magazines.   
  
"We'll take these down to the school's bomb shelter," Rick softly said, "then we'll pass them out."   
  
"Agreed," Ardeth and Alex said together as they tried to hoist the boxes into the lorry, but Khuta kept twining herself amongst the men, wanting to be a part of the action and barking happily.   
  
"Come on, girl. Let's go for a ride to the school bomb shelter. I bet the kids there will love to see you!" Alex told the retriever when the men finally had loaded the lorry with the boxes. Khuta obeyed, and jumped into the lorry when she settled down on Ardeth's lap.   
  
  
---------------------------------------  
  
After dinner that same day...a pot of water is on the stove...  
  
  
"So, can we see the Bracelet?" Evie asked Ardeth, who was sitting in the chair closest to the fire in the kitchen's fireplace. Khuta was curled up at Ardeth's feet and except for greeting the children at the school's bomb shelter, she had scarcely left Ardeth's side since she had been rescued. The remaining villagers were asleep in the O'Connell's basement.   
  
All of the village's young men and women had left to sign on with the Red Cross, the village children were evacuated to Ireland and the villagers remaining were staunchly determined to show Hitler London would not fall.   
  
Although blackout restrictions were in heavy effect for London (and the rest of England), and the windows of the Carnahan O'Connell estate were covered with two layers of thick blackout curtains, the kitchen was in a central part of the ancient home, and the light from the fire was not visible from the outside.   
  
The O'Connell's had decided to risk building a fire during blackout mainly as a result of the central kitchen fireplace having served in times past as the central heating unit for most of the house. Rick had reasoned that building a fire would cut down on the cost of heating the rather large house.   
  
And with the smoke from the destroyed areas of London still rising day and night, Rick had thought the smoke from the kitchen fire shouldn't raise the sights of a Messerschmidt.   
  
"Yeah, Ardeth, can we see the Bracelet? You were so haggard looking last night when you arrived that we didn't want to ask more of you than was necessary," Alex inquired of Ardeth, who nodded and pulled out from beneath his black robes a leather pouch.   
  
"Your arrival was rather quiet," Rick observed, watching Ardeth intently.   
  
"Nuit came to me last night and told me she sent her apologies for not giving me a welcome upon my arrival in London, but she and the rest of the Gods were trying to prevent her wayward son from learning of my arrival in London. Any more action on her part would have served to inform Seth of my arrival. It seems that Seth's Chosen One is bent on destroying more than just London," Ardeth said as he opened the pouch and pulled out the Bracelet.   
  
"Wow! That is some workmanship!" Rick and Alex breathed as his wife asked, "What do you mean, destroying more than just London?"   
  
Ardeth glanced at Evie as he held the Bracelet of Lostris up. The thick bands of electrum gleamed in the firelight and the emeralds glinted as if lit from within with a supernatural power.   
  
"Ardeth! Tell me what you meant!" Evie demanded. Her eyes wide, her mouth open, she was reaching out for the Bracelet. Glimmers of golden light shot forth from the Bracelet and enveloped Ardeth. Evie waited for something else to happen, but the light seemed content to swirl around Ardeth. He seemed to relax when the golden threads swirled around him.   
  
"You are a Daughter of Egypt and you, Rick," Ardeth indicated with a nod of his head, "have made a friend of my people. I will tell you that Hitler plans on destroying the Egyptian Gods and the Afterlife by destroying all tombs, stele, temples and artifacts. This much the Gods informed me."   
  
Evie gasped, putting her hand to her mouth. Alex wanted to know, "Can Hitler do that? Destroy the Egyptian afterlife?" he asked of his parents, and of Ardeth.   
  
Ardeth nodded. "If he's given enough power, he can destroy anything."   
  
"Is that why you were so reluctant to tell us about your journey here?" Evie asked, hearing the teapot begin to whistle. She got up from her seat to attend to another pot of tea as Alex muttered, "We drink a lot of tea nowadays."   
  
"I heard that, Alex!" his mother said as she took the whistling teapot, perhaps the only object in the O'Connell household that appeared unaffected by the destruction of London, off the stove. Dumping some loose tea into the pot, she carried the pot to the table next to the chairs by the fire.   
  
"No. No, that is not the reason why I was reluctant to tell you about my journey," Ardeth replied as the firelight glinted off the large emeralds in the Bracelet--the Eyes of Lostris. He was wanting to sidestep Evie's question.   
  
"You said that Taita fashioned the Bracelet. Did it prevent you from drowning?" Evie asked, taking a tea strainer and straining the tea out before starting to pour it. "I've been having nightmares about you drowning at Seth's hand."   
  
"Yes. Taita, Lostris and Imhotep helped me and Martin to survive the two times Seth tried to drown us," Ardeth replied, opening the leather pouch again to put the Bracelet back in. "The first time was in a wadi in Libya and the next time, although I choose to believe it to be a freak wave, was when we were crossing the English Channel towards Portsmouth."   
  
"Imhotep!" Alex exclaimed. "But he's in the Underworld! We saw him dive into the Underworld after Ancksunamum betrayed him!"   
  
Ardeth held up his hand. "With so much going on, your history isn't up to par, Alex. I am referring to the Great Imhotep, Architect of the Step Pyramid."   
  
Alex looked skeptical and he looked at his mother. "It's true, Alex. Imhotep built the Step Pyramid and is the first named physician. There's still an underground cult which worships Imhotep."   
  
"Twice? Seth tried to drown you twice? He didn't try to drown you on your trip across the Med?" Rick asked Ardeth.   
  
"Strangely, no, he did not try any tricks while Martin and I were crossing the Med on the Eye of Horus."   
  
"Apty named," Evie noted. "Horus and Seth had battled for ages over the Throne of Osiris with Horus finally winning. Where did she hail from?"   
  
"A supply ship with a home port of Alexandria, with a stop at Tripoli and then onto the port of Nice," Ardeth replied.   
  
"Can I have a closer look at the Bracelet?" Evie asked and Ardeth nodded. Evie held out her hand and Ardeth slipped the Bracelet onto her slender wrist. The golden tendrils of light were momentarily confused and turned all sorts of colors as the tendrils tried to figure out to where Ardeth had disappeared.   
  
"They are confused," Ardeth noted and not knowing why, he held out his hand towards the Bracelet. The multi-colored tendrils of light, sensing his pulse, quickly enveloped Ardeth again, and once again turned golden as they settled down, protecting Ardeth.   
  
"They seem to like you," Rick observed drily.   
  
"The Bracelet confers an invisibility spell when it becomes necessary," Ardeth commented, further explaining how the Bracelet worked.   
  
"Invisibility?" Alex asked, surprised. "Think of what you could do if you were invisible! You could go inside the SS headquarters, and kidnap Hitler!" he finished emphatically.   
  
"Alex, I don't think the Bracelet would allow one to do that," his mother told him as she finished pouring the tea for everyone.   
  
"Now hold on, Evie. Ardeth?" Rick said, quite interested in hearing Ardeth's answer. If only Hitler could have be killed in action early on in the war!   
  
"The Bracelet confers invisibility when the enemy is near and needs no incantation to activate the spell," he replied. "That is how Martin and I traveled across France without the SS knowing we were passing right by them. Many times we passed less than a dozen yards from an encampment and the guards neither heard us nor saw us."   
  
"Then it would be possible to use the Bracelet to get to Hitler," Alex said a bit forcefully, picking up his tea mug and taking a sip, proud of himself.   
  
"It probably would be possible to use it for that purpose," Ardeth agreed, taking up his cup and copied Alex by taking a sip. "But the forces of the Dark One are strong around Hitler and I do not know the strength of the spell that Taita used. One must be careful of Egyptian spells."   
  
"Don't we know that!" Rick noted as he too copied the other men and sipped his tea, then made a bit of a face. "Honey? I do have to agree with Alex that we're up to our ears in tea. Is there any coffee? I am American you know."   
  
"We will start rationing the tea next week in case the war goes on for years, although Tallulah stored enough tea to supply the army. But no coffee," Evie replied crisply, then said, "I agree with Ardeth. Egyptian spells can backfire. Look what happened when I read the protective spell on the sarcophagus sheltering Imhotep's remains. Plagues, khamsin winds and other nasties came out of that spell."   
  
"It would be nice if we could use the Bracelet of Lostris to kidnap Hitler and bring him to justice early on," said Alex, who took a larger sip of his hot tea.   
  
"I would have to agree with that statement, Alex. But there is one more spell that needs to be read, and read by Martin," Rick said, and Ardeth nodded.   
  
"I do not know what that spell is. Perhaps it is one from the Book of Thoth," Ardeth replied, taking a sip of his tea.   
  
"What's the Book of Thoth?" Alex asked, leaning forward in his chair. Egyptian magic highly interested him.   
  
Ardeth glanced sharply at Alex. "It is a very powerful book of ancient magic. The Greeks re-wrote the Book and called it the Hermetica. The forty two papryus scrolls are said to contain a very powerful magical spell which confers power over every living thing, including the Gods themselves."   
  
"And you suspect that particular spell is needed?" Evie asked Ardeth, the Bracelet still gleaming on her slender wrist.   
  
In reply, Ardeth nodded.   
  
"What else does the Book contain?" Alex inquired of Ardeth.   
  
"The accumulated ancient knowledge of Egypt," he told the youngster. "But the original scrolls were lost in antiquity and no copy has ever been found, although the Hermetica survives, as do numerous references to the Book in other scrolls."   
  
"Do we have a copy of the Hermetica?" Alex asked his mother, who shook her head.   
  
"Can we get a copy?" Rick asked.   
  
"Perhaps we could check the Antiquities Museum," Evie noted, sitting back in the leather chair and finally taking a sip of her own tea.   
  
"The last time we were at the Museum we had lots of nasty demons chasing us before chasing us through London," Rick reminded his wife. "I'm not that keen on going there again."   
  
"At least we need to check, dad. I can go tomorrow," Alex said.   
  
"No!" the three adults said in unison. Alex looked suprised.   
  
"I will go," Ardeth told the O'Connells.   
  
"Why can't I go?" Alex wanted to know.   
  
"The Book of Thoth is very powerful, even if the book has been re-written by the Greeks. Just reciting the spells could cause catastrophe and I know you can read ancient Greek," Ardeth told a miffed Alex, who responded by taking a sip of his tea.   
  
Alex swallowed his tea, then muttered, "That's what I get for learning ancient languages."   
  
"He's right, Alex. Remember what I did to loose the High Priest Imhotep on Egypt when I read the spell on Imhotep's sarcophagus," Evie said, well remembering the day when she unwittingly loosed Imhotep and his formidable powers.   
  
At night, she sometimes woke up with a dry cough in conjunction with a nightmare about being blown halfway across the Egyptian Sahara in a windstorm Imhotep had created. Then she continued, "Well, that settles it. Ardeth will go to the antiquities museum tomorrow and see about the Hermetica. I'm not sure if there's anything we can do about locating Martin. Are you sure he's still alive?"   
  
"Yes. The Bracelet thrums. You can not feel it?" Ardeth asked of Evie, who was still wearing the Bracelet.   
  
"It only feels a little warm," she replied, and, without knowing why, she flung her arms out. The Bracelet slipped off Evie's slender wrist and flew through the air towards the opposite wall, the firelight gleaming on the emeralds.   
  
"Noooooo!" Rick said as he dropped his tea cup and ran after the Bracelet, trying to catch it before the Bracelet fell to the kitchen's stone floor.   
  
He missed, and the Bracelet bounced off the wall and fell to the floor and bounced three times before breaking into three parts. The Bracelet lay on the stone floor, gleaming in the firelight.   
  
"Honey!" Rick said as he, Evie and Alex looked horrified, their faces pale in the firelight. The tendrils of golden light flared brighter momentarily and a faint male voice came from the golden light: "Hail! Do you need..." before fading out.   
  
Ardeth, however, was undisturbed by the Bracelet's seemingly horrid fate. Still surrounded by threads of golden light, Ardeth rose from his chair to inspect the Bracelet. "It looks like Taita had fashioned the Bracelet to be broken into three parts," Ardeth explained, showing Evie how the parts of the electrum and emerald studded bracelet fit together.   
  
"It looks like nothing's happened!" Evie gasped, relief showing on her face. Rick came over to inspect the Bracelet, taking it apart and fitting it together again.   
  
"I think he is right. Taita fashioned the Bracelet to be broken into three parts. He's clever, that Taita, obviously a puzzle lover. But why?" Rick asked of the group.   
  
"We shall have to ask Martin when he arrives if the Bracelet has lost some of its power," Alex said wanly.   
  
"Do not underestimate the power of three," Ardeth told the young man. "The golden light still surrounds me."   
  
The foursome sat down in their chairs, then grew quiet, the argument won in Ardeth's favor. Each was lost in their own thoughts until Ardeth began to speak in a soft voice.   
  
  
  
"They were a family on their way home, to Oxford: a mother, son and daughter getting a heads up on their journey home as soon the day grew bright enough to see the roadway clearly.   
  
"It was two days ago. The night had been cold, and ice had formed on the roadway and the bridges across the Thames by the early morning. Thunder Sky had needed rest, so I stopped to rest him and had dozed off for some hours.   
  
I had woken with the dawn--the Gods had given me a soft dream and I had found I had slept a few hours. I was riding hard towards London when I heard the mother's scream and pushed Thunder Sky to his limits. When I came over the crest of the hill and looked down, I saw the mother treading the waters of the Thames, screaming frantically, "Help my children!"   
  
I rode down the hill and took a flying leap off Thunder Sky, for the auto was submerged in the water and if they were still alive, the children didn't have much time. I dove down into the freezing water and tried to get the children out."   
  
  
  
Ardeth grew quiet for a moment, his eyes distant, then he continued his narrative.   
  
  
  
"I got a hold of the younger child first, Hildred, pulled her out and swam to the surface where I handed her to her mother. I went back for Ewan, did the same, then swam to the Thames' banks with the child.   
  
But Hildred and Ewan were limp, very cold and their lips were blue."   
  
  
  
His throat closing up, Ardeth reached for the cup of tea and took a sip. Swishing the hot liquid around his mouth, he tried to wash out the taste of fear from his memory. Nothing in his training, nothing in his upbringing, nothing that the mind of Imhotep could dredge up to scare him, nothing could compare with the memory he was reliving.   
  
The O'Connells listened in silence. When Ardeth felt ready, he continued.   
  
  
  
"We were trying to resuscitate the children for an hour. It was then I realized the meaning of their limp limbs and blue lips when they were trapped under the waters of the Thames: the children were already dead. The water was too cold for their hearts to withstand and their hearts had stopped before I had dived into the water.   
  
I sat with Iolanthe for some time and she told me about Hildred and Ewan until a government lorry drove by carrying uniforms for new recruits. The soldiers wrapped the childrens' bodies in blankets and carried them and their mother to the hospital--their mother for medical treatment and the children went to the morgue."   
  
  
  
Ardeth grew quiet and stared in the distance for a long time. Evie quietly got up and put her hand on his shoulder. Ardeth didn't acknowledge her but continued to stare into the distance. Evie nodded at Alex and silently asked him to refill Ardeth's tea mug.   
  
Alex knelt in front of Ardeth and held the mug until Ardeth was ready to accept it. 


	20. Chapter Nineteen

CHAPTER NINETEEN  
  
  
The Underworld, Sometime in Eternity (scuttlebutt puts the earth bound date as October 28, 1940)  
  
  
"That bastard! That backstabbing bastard! That dirty, double-crossing, double-damned bastard!" Seth stated quietly, then stamped his foot, and the Underworld reverberated.   
  
Imhotep merely stood in front of Seth, his intense eyes looking at the flame-haired, cerulean eyed Seth--an angry Seth. He couldn't blame Seth for stamping his foot and shaking the Underworld so violently that every demon in the Underworld stopped what they were doing to look at the cause of the commotion.   
  
Growling, Seth asked, "You know what this means, don't you High Priest of my brother?"   
  
"Yes, I do."   
  
"And you're damned right I'm going to call a truce with my mother and join the Gods in stopping that bastard!" Seth said, tossing his flaming hair. Seth's anger had ignited his long red hair and flames of fire shot out from the tendrils of hair as Seth tossed his head.   
  
"So Hitler thinks he can double cross me, eh? Hitler will soon find out the wrath of an Egyptian God spurned when I rain on his parade," Seth stated and shook flaming hair and sparks flew, then he went to the Throne Room, Imhotep trailing him by a few steps.   
  
  
  
-----------------------------------  
  
A few minutes later in the Throne Room in the Underworld, at a hastily assembled meeting of the Egyptian Gods (not all of them are present)....   
  
"And I," Seth's gravelly voice rang out in the Throne Room. "I, Seth, God of Wind and Storms, God of Foreign Lands, I as an Egyptian God, wish to call a truce with you, Mother," he said, and his mother caught her breath.   
  
Seth continued his speech, "And I wish to call a truce with all the Gods so that we may wipe that double-crossing bastard from the living and put him into the Underworld, where I can have the pleasure of torturing him for eternity," Seth told those Gods who were able to make the hasty meeting.   
  
"Dear son," Nuit said, tears of gold falling down her cheeks and onto Seth's still-flaming hair. "We were so engaged in protecting Ardeth and keeping his arrival in London a secret from you, that we overlooked the obvious fact which Imhotep relayed to us: the fact that Hitler is planning on destroying the Egyptian afterlife and destroying the Egyptian Gods."   
  
"And that includes you, Seth. We apologize," Osiris told his brother.   
  
"No one wants to be destroyed," Hathor said, flicking her lion's ears.   
  
"Just the thought of being destroyed makes me want to shudder and crack the earth open," Seth's father, Geb, said.   
  
"We just didn't think, we were that upset about Hitler's plans. When Imhotep told us what your protoge Hitler was planning for Egypt and her Gods and afterlife, well, all of us got scared and didn't think," Nepthys told her husband.   
  
"We just acted, and forgot that if the Egyptians Gods were destroyed, that would include you as well," Osiris told his brother again, whose flaming hair was still shooting sparks.   
  
Seth looked at his wife gently, then looked at his brother. "It is I who needs to apologize to everyone, including Ardeth," Seth said, and bowed deeply to his brother, then bowed to those Gods and Goddesses in attendance. "I trusted Hitler but he is more evil than evil itself."   
  
"A wayward spell on a ushabti," Imhotep breathed. "Hitler is like a ushabti doll without a protective spell to keep the ushabti from turning devious on its master."   
  
"I agree with you, Imhotep. I too was bent on finding someone to help me that I forgot to place a protective spell on my chosen one," Seth told Imhotep.   
  
"What will you do, Seth?" Bastet purred, then shyly winked a green eye and flicked her ears at Imhotep, who, in his golden robes, was standing next to Seth. Imhotep, despite himself, showed a slight smile on his face.   
  
"Why, Bastet! Has it been that long since we've rattled in the reeds? I am the God of Wind and Storms." Seth turned to his mother. "Mother? Will you assist me?"   
  
"Of course. What do you need me to do?" she replied, and Geb, her husband and brother, hugged her. The family was finally coming together in this time of need.   
  
Seth laughed heartily, his laughter ringing throughout the Throne Room, into the Underworld and out into the Afterlife. "I'm going to create a rainstorm for Hitler. And if Imhotep is correct, Ardeth will soon be unleashing the power of the Bracelet of Lostris to repel the bomber planes from London."   
  
"Ardeth will need to incant the Spell of Osiris," Isis warned.   
  
Thoth nodded. "And as a result of the unusual circumstances, I will agree to my most powerful spell being used to repel Hitler. It is for our continued existence."   
  
"Seth?" Bes asked, rubbing his hands together. Fighting usually wasn't his domain, except the fight of a woman giving birth but Bes figured that fighting to protect his own immortality was worth delving into another God's area.   
  
Seth turned, then looked down at the dwarf god. "Yes?"   
  
"How about creating a windstorm to drive the planes back to where Hitler lives?"   
  
At that question, even the normally stoic Imhotep grinned hugely, then laughed along with the assembled Egyptian Gods. "Now, that, Bes, would be a slap in Hitler's face! While you're at it, Seth, why not do like you did with Ardeth and turn the planes upside down and shake the pilots out in front of Hitler's headquarters?"   
  
Now Seth's deep laughter rang out again. "That would teach the bastard to double-cross an Egyptian God!"   
  
  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Early morning, October 28, 1940, Carnahan O'Connell estate...   
  
  
  
Khuta was howling quite loudly.   
  
"Ooo, that dog can wake the dead!" Evie exclaimed as she pushed back the covers on the matrimonial bed. It was a chilly morning and goosebumps appeared on Evie's arms as she got out of the warm bed she shared with her husband.   
  
"Too bad Nuit doesn't soften her howls like she does the squeals of the bombs," Rick noted as checked his watch to make sure the sun was up and blackout restrictions were lited for the day, then he flipped the switch on the lamp next to the bed and watched his wife slip off her dressing gown. Standing next to the lamp, Evie's slender shape was silhouetted in the soft lamplight.   
  
"Methinks somebody's a bit hungry this morning," Rick growled to his wife.   
  
She smiled at him. "Not now, darling. Ardeth's in the next room."   
  
"He lives in a tent. He's used to hearing it," Rick noted drily.   
  
"Later on this morning, when Ardeth's gone out to confer with the Gods," Evie whispered conspiratorially. "Really, you men. It's war and you want to go to bed."   
  
"Have to save the species, you know," Rick noted with a tone of sadness as Evie got dressed in trousers and a thick plaid sweater.   
  
"Later," she whispered. "I'm off to see what's she's howling at this time," Evie responded.   
  
"It's probably Ducky she's cornered. She's a retriever and she wants to retrieve Ducky. It's what she does," Rick noted as his wife went off to find and quiet Khuta.   
  
As she came down into the kitchen, she noticed Ardeth sitting at the table, drinking a cup of tea. The government rationed two ounces of tea per person per week, but thanks to foresighted Tallulah's stockpile, Evie had calculated the O'Connells had a five year stockpile if they limited their tea consumption to three pots daily.   
  
Tallulah had not thought to stockpile coffee so when the men went out for Operation Take Out, Rick satiated his thirst for coffee in one of London's bustling coffee shops that now mainly supplied coffee to the Allied military men.   
  
"You are up with the dawn," she noted to Ardeth as she took a mug and poured herself some tea.   
  
"It is a habit of the desert. One awakens with the dawn," Ardeth replied, looking at Evie with his dark eyes, with ghosts of black shadows under his lower lids.   
  
"Do you know why Khuta is howling?"   
  
"She is chasing the duck that has taken up residence with you," he answered, sipping his tea. He took a piece of oven-warm bread from the plate, and took a bite.   
  
"Why doesn't Ducky fly away?"   
  
"He feels safe here and knows Khuta won't harm him," Ardeth replied. "She is a lost dog and wants to return to her former owners. She is merely playing with Ducky and he is playing along with her."   
  
"Strange game they have."   
  
"I have been meaning to ask you why you have a duck floating in your bathtub."   
  
"He came on the 7th. And he's decided he likes it here," Evie replied, sipping her tea. "Ow! You like this tea hot!"   
  
"I am a man of the desert. All things I like are hot," Ardeth replied before sipping his tea.   
  
"I am half-English. Rain is in my blood and there are some things I like cool," she told him as she blew on her tea to cool it. "So, where are Khuta and Ducky?"   
  
"In one of the guest bedrooms, trying to hide from each other," Ardeth replied, taking another bite of his bread.   
  
"Would you like something else to eat? Cheese? The town of Cheddar has sent along hundreds of cheese wheels. They will certainly supplement the measly one ounce of cheese per person per week the British government is keen on handing out."   
  
"Cheese, yes. Thank you."   
  
Evie got up to get one of the cheese wheels. She brought it back to the table, and taking a knife, sliced a piece then handed it to Ardeth.   
  
"You know, the supplies the Cornwall natives have been sending in to help London have certainly done that--help. There are many children who wouldn't have a winter coat but for Cornwall natives. I realize Cornwallians won't be able to send along food supplies forever but every bit helps."   
  
Ardeth accepted the cheese and took a bite. "Cornwallian and Cheddar hospitality is certainly commendable, given the strict rations. I've written the Dunlops a letter. Thank you for assisting me with written English."   
  
"Never a problem. Mail's a little slow these days."   
  
"Hitler certainly has seen to that."   
  
"Jonathan's latest letter said he's been approved as a foster father to Ian Mathewson."   
  
"That is good news! I am sorry I missed the reading of his latest letter. May I hear it read later?"   
  
"Yes. His letter contains very good news. The swiftness that Jonathan decided to become a foster father to Ian and Children's Services approval is rather surprising. Children's Services tended to be slow before the blitz, although they are sending thousands of children to Australia and South Africa. Ireland's far enough away."   
  
"Children need a home during this war and war is not good for children. Amongst the Tuareg, orphan children are taken care of by the entire tribe."   
  
"Jonathan writes that he is planning on staying on in Ireland a while longer, although he dated the letter in early October," Evie said but Ardeth shook his head. "Why are you shaking your head?"   
  
"Jonathan will be coming to London, soon," Ardeth replied, sipping his tea.   
  
"How do you....oh! The Gods have spoken to you."   
  
"No. It is a feeling. Jonathan will be arriving in London sooner than you think."   
  
"How soon? Is he hurt?" Evie's concern for her brother showed in the tone of her voice.   
  
"He is safe and he will be here soon. Within days, if not today," Ardeth replied cryptically, taking a sip of his tea.   
  
"Have you made any headway on finding the Spell of Osiris?" Evie asked. "I can't find any reference to the spell in my library."   
  
"Not a reference. The antiquities museum contained nothing from the Hermetica. We must wait until Martin gets here to break Hitler's hold over London."   
  
"The bombs have intensified and they're using more incendiary bombs," Evie noted as she too sipped her tea. "I suppose there isn't much left of the homes you are taking inventory of for Operation Take Out," she added sadly.   
  
"No, not much is left of the houses or their belongings," Ardeth agreed. "The destruction, I think, is beginning to take a toll on Alex. Khuta is good for him, she reminds him of when we found her in the rubble near the Docklands," he noted to Evie, then continued. "There will be much to repair when Hitler's stranglehold on London is broken. And not all of the repairs will be material."   
  
Evie nodded her head. "I agree. It's been nearly two months since the daily bombardment began."   
  
"The citizens have had to incorporate daily air raid drills into their lives. There will be much emotional scarring, particularly in the young. They will not know what to do with themselves once the daily bombing has stopped."   
  
"Do you think the Spell of Osiris can stop the bombings once and for all?" Evie wanted to know.   
  
Ardeth looked at Evie with concern. "It is a very powerful spell which confers power even over the Gods themselves, not unlike the Bracelet of Osiris. But I do not think that the spell can stop Hitler, merely detract him long enough so that England may build up her forces again and keep Hitler from attaining his goal of subjugating England."   
  
He took a sip of his tea, then another bite of the cheese which Cheddar had contributed to King Arthur's quest. Then he continued, "but you know, with the shorter hours of daylight as autumn progresses, Hitler would have to scale back his daily bombing."   
  
"But not the night time bombing."   
  
"True," Ardeth replied.   
  
"There are some rumours going around that Hitler has started concentration camps, where he is killing people by the thousands on a daily basis," Evie said and Ardeth started, his face pale.   
  
"Those rumours are likely true," he replied. "The Gods said Hitler wants to annihilate the afterlife of Egypt, and annihilating an entire living population is not beyond Hitler's capacity."   
  
"We are doomed if Hitler succeeds with taking down London," Evie said, her voice shaking a bit. Her hand shook and the tea cup threatened to fall out of her slender hand. Ardeth reached over to steady Evie's hand.   
  
"Hitler will not succeed. Martin will be here, with the proper spell to incant, and the Bracelet will use its power to expel Hitler's forces from London. At least, long enough for Britian to gather enough forces to confront him and eventually kill him."   
  
"I hope so," Evie replied. "I am scared."   
  
The two friends sat in silence, sipping their tea, until Rick and Alex arrived downstairs for breakfast of tea, cheese and bread.   
  
As had been the habit since Ardeth arrived in London several weeks ago, the three men would be working another day of Operation Take Out and then they would deliver the latest shipment of boxes from the Cornwall natives to various bomb shelters around London. Rationing was extreme, and the extra food supplies were well appreciated. 


	21. Chapter Twenty

CHAPTER TWENTY  
  
Late the next morning, October 29, near lunch, the day had dawned overcast with drizzle...   
  
  
"Mum, dad! Here's another letter from Jonathan! One of the villagers brought it in. Do you want me to read it aloud?" Alex said as he came into the kitchen where Ardeth, Rick, Evie and Khuta were seated in the kitchen.   
  
"Yes, please," his mother replied as she sat down on a large chair next to the fireplace and curled up next to her husband. Ardeth, with Khuta at his feet, was sitting at the kitchen table, inspecting the Bracelet.   
  
Alex's deep tenor voice was quiet as he relayed Jonathan's latest letter. "Its dated 20 October."   
  
"That was quick mail this time around," Rick noted quietly about the letter's date.   
  
  
-----------------------------  
  
Dear Sis,   
  
My last letter failed to relate an event which occurred in our northern neighbor and there simply was not enough time to relate the event to you during my brief stay back in London. I trust you are satisfied with my letters, which I enjoy writing.   
  
After arranging for the vaults, I had a most unusual meeting in a pub--the poet Hugh MacDiarmid (the pen name of Christopher Murray Grieve) and he and I struck up a friendship over mash and bangers. All right, I admit I ordered the mash and bangers while Hugh--a true Scotsman indeed--dived into a bowl of haggis!   
  
The bashed neeps were rather good, though, and I consumed two bowls in exchange for more of my tea.   
  
Really, sister dear, the government rations two ounces of tea per person per week! No wonder I made fast friends by exchanging tea and other sundries for services! I know I have made previous mention of Tallulah's enormous stockpile of food, clothing and supplies, but until I traveled several times by train through our mother land, I didn't fully realize the full effects of the government's rather stringent per-person weekly rationing.   
  
Dear, sweet Tallulah! How much better we can help those made homeless by the Luftwaffe with the supplies she stockpiled!   
  
Moving on, I've enclosed a copy of a chapbook of Hugh's which he presented to me. The poems are written in Scots but with your ability in languages, I trust you'll be able to decipher Scots and translate the poems.   
  
Despite the daily bombardment of London, the plane ride to Liverpool was rather uneventful, although I had the scariest vision that a line of Messerschmidts would appear on the horizon, flying towards us, our tiny plane in their sights and the Germans would be ready to shoot Jonathan and Jonathan down over the English heaths.   
  
Irish air is quite beneficial to the children, who grow more hale and hearty with each passing day. The fresh air ruddies their cheeks and their eyes smile as we've always heard how Irish eyes smile.   
  
I watch the children, who, for the present time, laugh at seeing ruminants grazing alongside the rural lanes, and shout out their amazement upon seeing a dolmen or the ruins of an ancient castle. Their laughter rings out as they play, and I grow sad.   
  
Their childhoods (and parents) have been cruelly stolen from them and once again you and I (along with the rest of the world) have to bear witness to the ravages of another war. This is no "Phoney War" (oh! but how we could use another period of inactivity again!) but a manifestation of the horrors their uncles and elder brothers told around the fireside about the trenches and mustard gas.   
  
We ourselves had barely recovered from the first war when the winds of war were once again loosed and another generation of children are torn from the safety of their childhood and thrust into a forced adulthood.   
  
In that sense, I am glad the Irish air is doing the children well and once again they can believe they are children, if only for a short while, for when they return to London, no matter what their ages, they will be forced to grow up sooner rather than later. Such are the invisible casualties of war upon the human race.   
  
The children express concern for those youngsters left behind in London, for they hear the radio reports about the continuing daily bombing by the Luftwaffe. Being separated from their parents and all that they knew and being thrust into a foreign country unwillingly will undoubtedly take an emotional toll.   
  
They are also feeling a bit of awe, for many of the children from London proper lived in cold water flats and rarely made it down to the council baths once a week to bathe in hot water. And in Ireland, hot water gushes from the taps. How the children squeal when they have daily hot baths!   
  
Irish farming folk have developed quite the communications system for relaying the news to those folks not lucky enough to own a radio. To encourage exercise (not to mention sightseeing, and Ireland has castles galore), and each of the children gets a turn going round to the farms every few days carrying a 'newspaper' containing news on London, the war ("history in the making" the children tell me and they finished by saying "they need to know what happens so it may never happen again").   
  
And the children, especially Irene Dunne, in the absence of regular library time, have developed an affiinity for making up stories and plays, which they enact in their own 'theatre'--unsuitably located in a windswept barn (I must make better arrangements for them if they are going to continue putting on plays, for winter is fast approching).   
  
Irene is turning into quite the young writer and back in England, I shall have to find some outlets for her writing else her creativity will wither and she will end up stamping her feet in frustration.   
  
There is a dearth of writers in this, the second world war, and the reason, I suspect, is that our young men (and women!) of capable talent are being sent off to the front lines. I am keen to encourage Irene's nascent talent, for I shall have need of a good tale to read in my old age, when Ian's children are warm in their beds and, after a day of work, then caring for rambunctious children, Ian himself will have nodded off in front of the fireplace.   
  
With that thought, I am reminded of the first stanza of Yeats' "When You are Old":   
  
When you are old and grey and full of sleep   
and nodding by the fire, take down this book   
and slowly read, and dream of the soft look   
your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep.   
  
  
Gaelic is still spoken here and there in the rural countryside of Ireland and learning a new language seems to suit the children and takes their minds off the Luftwaffe. Basic greetings in Gaelic befuddle me, but the children's young minds have allowed them to hold a simple conversation after just a few weeks in Ireland. Sister, dear! Now is the time I wish I possessed your ability with languages!   
  
Ian is doing wonderfully and he and I have grown quite attached to each other. He's settled down quite a bit and is not so stoic and angry. He has developed a bit of a mischievous streak and is constantly pulling practical jokes on me and any other unsuspecting person who may have the misfortune of being around when he gets a prank into his head.   
  
I think that knowing he has a permanent home with someone who's interested in him as a person instead of as a boarder has calmed him substantially.   
  
A fresh, young intelligent mind he possesses and he uses it at every opportunity, quizzing me about our parents, my travels in Egypt and his memory is astounding! He is especially interested in the fact you and I are half-Egyptian.   
  
It appears that Ian, like a good many people, is fascinated in all things Ancient Egyptian. So sister dear, I must ask you to write down myths and poems and the what not that you remember from Neferteri's lifetime so my Ian can read and slake his thirst for things Ancient Egyptian.   
  
I've yet to relay to Ian the news about your past life as Neferteri. I am not quite sure how he'll accept that news, nor have I relayed to him about the events with Imhotep and Ancksunamun out in the Egyptian Sahara all those years ago.   
  
There are times when I myself can hardly believe that Alex used a spell from the Book of the Dead to resurrect you. Sitting there with Alex, after Ancksunamun stabbed you, I was at a loss for emotions. How does one accept the fact he has just witnessed his only sister being stabbed to death?   
  
For Alex's sake, I kept the proverbial stiff upper lip but I am truly relieved that Alex kept his mind and used "the Book" as he likes to say, and resurrected you, sister dear.   
  
And speaking of Egypt, I have had dreams that I can not remember upon awakening, but something tells me I need to return to England--to London--shortly. Ian is rather sad that I will be leaving him for a time, but he is mollified greatly (read: highly enthusiastic!) by the fact that his new foster aunt not only lived in Egypt but knows all things Ancient Egyptian.   
  
And Ian has instructed me to bring back books on Ancient Egypt, and especially books about King Tut. Ah! Along with the rest of the English population, he shares the still-raging fascination for King Tut.   
  
Does Tut's tomb ever end?   
  
I remain, your loving brother,   
Jonathan   
  
  
  
ps-- while rummaging in a village antiques store a few days ago, I found three pamphlets, the first of which was written nearly 30 years ago, by an older acquaintance of mine: Issac Rosenberg. This particular poem was published in 1922, four years after he died on the battle lines (April 1, 1918).   
  
  
  
Break of Day in the Trenches   
  
The darkness crumbles away,   
It is the same old druid Time as ever,   
Only a live thing leaps my hand,   
A queer sardonic rat,   
As I pull the parapet's poppy   
To stick behind my ear.   
  
Droll rat, they would shoot you if they knew   
Your cosmopolitan sympathies.   
  
Now you have touched this English hand   
You will do the same to a German   
Soon, no doubt, if it be your pleasure   
To cross the sleeping green between.   
  
It seems you inwardly grin as you pass   
Strong eyes, fine limbs, haughty athletes,   
Less chanced than you for life,   
Bonds to the whims of murder,   
Sprawled in the bowels of the earth,   
The torn fields of France.   
  
What do you see in our eyes   
At the shrieking iron and flame   
Hurled through still heavens?   
What quaver--what heart aghast?   
Poppies whose roots are in man's veins   
Drop, and are ever dropping;   
But mine in my ear is safe--   
Just a little white with dust.  
  
  
------------------------------  
  
  
Alex's soft voice finished the last phrase of Issac Rosenberg's words when Khuta, ever a good watchdog, barked a greeting. The O'Connells and Ardeth looked up at the doorway to see to whom Khuta was barking.   
  
"Jonathan!" Evie, Alex and Rick cried, as Evie jumped to her feet and ran to hug her brother.   
  
"We just got your last letter just now!" she told her brother as she hugged him.   
  
"Jonathan!" Rick said as he too hugged his brother in law and Alex copied his father.   
  
"So I heard," he said, extracting himself from Alex's embrace before continuing, "And Ardeth, greetings. I believe I have somebody here that you're looking for," Jonathan told Ardeth, who smiled as he saw who was walking up behind Jonathan.   
  
"Martin!" Ardeth said and stood up. Khuta barked happily, wanting to join in the general commotion of Jonathan's and Martin's arrival. She went up and sniffed at the two men, each of whom bent down to pet her.   
  
Nasally, Martin replied when he finished petting Khuta, "Ardeth! You are well. I wish I could I say the same. I developed a case of pneumonia and was laid up in a hospital in Salisbury. Dreadful time there."   
  
"You are here, and that is all we need," Ardeth replied. "I am glad to see you well."   
  
"Alex! Some tea for Jonathan and Martin!" Evie said. "Hello, Martin. We've been awaiting your arrival. Sit down here, by the fire," she said, showing Martin to the chair she had just vacated.   
  
"And hello to you, Mister and Mrs O'Connell. Alex. I am pleased to finally meet you after hearing many tales about your and Ardeth's experiences in the Sahara," he said as he accepted a cup of tea from Alex. "Is there honey? Honey is good for my throat."   
  
"Call us Rick and Evie. Our late housemaid Tallulah laid up a lot of supplies and honey is one of them. Alex? The honey pot is in the lower left hand drawer next to the stove."   
  
"So that's where you hid it!" Rick teased his wife, as he put his arm around her. Alex went to fetch the honey pot.   
  
"Now for business, for I know what's all on your minds" Martin continued as Alex put the honey pot down and extracted a spoonful, which he dripped into Martin's tea cup. "The Bracelet needs the Spell of Osiris to be incanted. I am at a loss as to how to gain access to the spell, except by trying to contact Taita in the Crossroads of Time."   
  
"I have failed to find a copy of the Hermetica," Ardeth said. "But I trust that our friend Taita will have the answers."   
  
"I wish it were that easy. I have had trouble contacting Lostris and Taita as of late," Martin told Ardeth.   
  
"You have been ill and your mind has been wandering," Ardeth replied and Martin nodded.   
  
"He is a clever one, that Taita. Without knowing the Spell of Osiris, there will be no way to incant the spell," Martin said.   
  
"Very powerful spell indeed," Jonathan murmured as he too took a cup of tea and sipped.   
  
"It's the spell which will expel the Luftwaffe's bombers from London. Perhaps forever," Alex said hopefully as Ardeth's eyes narrowed a bit as he remembered something. Ardeth walked over to the kitchen table where he picked up the Bracelet. Breaking it into three pieces, he carried the pieces over to Martin.   
  
Jonathan's eyes lighted up as he looked at Taita's exquisite workmanship. The emeralds were quite large--not tiny emeralds as one usually found in modern jewerly.   
  
"Does this writing make sense?" he asked Martin, who held up one of the Bracelet's links towards the firelight. Martin squinted carefully at the pieces.   
  
"Do you have a magnifying glass?" he asked Rick.   
  
But it was Alex who answered. "Sure do!" Alex exclaimed, jumped up and ran out of the room. Khuta barked when Ardeth returned to the kitchen table to sit down. Ardeth reached down to pet her.   
  
"What's this? Writing? Let me see," Evie asked as she examined another piece of the Bracelet. She addressed Martin, "We'd meant to ask, but does the power of the Bracelet diminish when it's in three parts like this?"   
  
Martin shook his head. "No. I think it increases the power."   
  
"This writing looks familiar," Evie said, "but I can't place the language. It's a Semitic language, judging from the sentence structure, and related to the languages of Arabic and Hebrew."   
  
Rick stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Could it be the language the Hyksos spoke? Can you decipher it Evie? It could be the spell of Osiris written on the Bracelet, just in case there were no copies of the spell available."   
  
Martin nodded in agreement. "The Hyksos invaded Egypt during Taita's lifetime and he was a student in languages. He might have used the written language of the Hyksos if he wrote something on the Bracelet."   
  
"Why would he use the language of invaders when making the Bracelet? Why not use ancient Egyptian?" Alex wanted to know as he came into the room carrying a magnifying glass.   
  
After a moment, Ardeth was the one to respond, "The Spell of Osiris is such a strong spell, anyone with literacy could read aloud the spell. And incanting the spell, even inadvertantly, would activate the power of the spell."   
  
"And that would cause catastrophe," Rick observed, looking at his wife. "When your mother incanted a spell," he began to tell Alex, but Evie cut him off with a sharp glance.   
  
"Ardeth's right. I'll tell you about the Egyptian myths later on, Alex, and Jonathan, I'll write them down for Ian."   
  
"Ian is quite keen on learning ancient Egyptian as well," he told his sister.   
  
"I'll teach him! Will he come home with you?"   
  
Jonathan nodded as Alex asked, "What were the dominant languages of that time?" Alex wanted to know as he watched Martin inspect the three sections of the Bracelet.   
  
His mother responded, "Egyptian and Hebrew for the inhabitants of Egypt. Babylonian to the immediate east and further east, other Semitic languages were spoken, and Berber languages to the west of Egypt. There were hundreds of other languages, mostly primitive like the Dinka language, and especially to the south and west of Egypt the languages were varied..."   
  
"Mum!" Alex moaned as Rick said, "Evie," then kissed his wife to quiet her upcoming speech on ancient languages.   
  
Martin was peering intently through the magnifying glass. "I do believe these are instructions for activating the Bracelet. We shall have to spend some time deciphering the language."   
  
"That reminds me!" Evie exclaimed. "Last night, when the Bracelet was first taken apart, there was a man's voice coming from the golden light. He tried to address us but he faded out."   
  
Martin stroked his now bearded chin in imitation of Rick. "Hmmm. Taita is very clever, and a puzzle lover."   
  
"I was right!" Rick interjected, smiling.   
  
Martin chuckled. "Yes, he loved puzzles, and the bao board, and constructing clever mazes to confound those who tried to solve his mazes. The voice you heard was probably his, and if it was his voice, he might have constructed a gateway to the Spell of Osiris."   
  
"And he's the gatekeeper?" Jonathan inquired.   
  
"That would make sense. Taita would want to ensure the spell wasn't inadvertantly incanted," Evie noted.   
  
"I would have to agree with you, Evie," Martin said. "Taita fashioned the Bracelet to help repel invaders of Egypt and if he used the Spell of Osiris in its creation, the puzzle lover in him would have created a gateway."   
  
Ardeth commented, "And the ancient myths tell about the misfortunes of those who tried to use the spell of Osiris for their own benefit. Placing a gateway to the spell would be appropriate for Taita to have done."   
  
"Martin, could you try to contact Lostris and Taita while Evie tries to decipher the language?" Rick asked Martin, who nodded as Evie said, "Yes. I think that's an excellent idea. I'll make some lunch as until we know the spell of Osiris, there's nothing much we can do."   
  
"Would there be any problem with me having a hot bath?" Martin asked. "I'm rather chilled."   
  
"Ditto," Jonathan said. "A hot bath after traveling is always a treat," he said as he took another sip of his hot tea laced with honey instead of sugar this time around.   
  
"Of course," Rick said. "Alex? Show Martin the guest bath." Martin followed Alex and the two left the room.   
  
"And I shall be outside," Ardeth put in, standing up from the kitchen table. Khuta stood up to follow him. "Khuta, go find Ducky," Ardeth told the retriever, and she obediently left the kitchen. Ardeth, too, left the kitchen, his black robes swirling around him and threads of golden light enveloping him.   
  
"He's been doing that a lot," Evie whispered. "The Gods are speaking to him. He seems to take comfort from their words."   
  
Jonathan nodded in response. "Gods are like that, I hear." He rubbed his hands together, then continued. "Is that some of the Cheddar folks' rather surreptious contribution of cheese to London that I notice on the kitchen table?" Jonathan inquired of his sister, a mischievous grin on his face. "And might I add unbeknownst to the Crown's rationers?"   
  
Evie smiled. "Yes, it is. And just as clandestinely, we're distributing the cheese. The recipients are more than happy to alleviate the rationing, even if it's just for a while. I know Cheddar can't send cheese to London forever."   
  
"Cheddar stockpiled cheese wheels in the caves throughout Cheddar Gorge. Crown toilers don't know that, so don't let on!" Jonathan told his sister in a conspiratorial whisper as she went over to the kitchen table and sliced a piece of cheddar cheese. Placing the cheese on a plate, she took a small loaf of warm black rye bread and placed it next to the cheese, walked over and handed the plate to her brother.   
  
"There you go," she said as she kissed Jonathan's cheek. He smiled at her and put the plate down on his lap, as Evie commented, "Why would I tell? I've been on the dreaded cheese ration as long as the rest of England--since January!"   
  
"You said that Ian will be able to come home with you. I thought Children's Services were evacuating the children to the countryside until the end of the war, whenever that might be," Rick wanted to know as Jonathan took a bite of the warm black rye bread. Rick reached for his tea mug and took a sip of tea.   
  
"CS is evacuating the children until the end of the war. Ian's legal status is in limbo, for when he was evacuated, he was an orphan and a ward of Children's Services. Now he's my foster son and I've agreed to allow him to stay in Ireland. He enjoys being a farmhand."   
  
"What's this about becoming an adoptive parent?" Evie asked her brother as she sat down on her husband's lap. "We're keen to meet Ian and we're happy for the both of you."   
  
Rick smiled then said,"Yes, tell us."   
  
Jonathan returned the smile, then sipped tea to chase the bread down his throat. "That's where I threw a spanner into the works. Ian's legal status changed when I filed adoption papers. And, uniquely," he said, taking a sip of his tea and swallowing, "I will be able to send Ian to and from the farm in Ireland as I please."   
  
"He'll be able to see his new father on a regular basis, unlike the other children who will have to wait until the end of the war to see their parents again," Evie noted.   
  
"That he will," Jonathan replied, sipping his tea. "Most of the evacuated children won't be so lucky," he added.   
  
Rick looked at Jonathan. "You found the needle in the haystack that we've been searching for these last weeks. How did you run into Martin?" he asked.   
  
"Now that's a tale!" Jonathan replied, sitting back in the leather chair and sipping his tea. "In short, I thought from his face that he was Jonathan Wilkes standing on the train platform at Salisbury when I knew I'd left him in Liverpool after flying in from Edinburgh."   
  
"They're brothers! I thought they merely shared a common surname," Rick exclaimed.   
  
"Twins. Fraternal, but so close in appearance as to be identical. Martin had just been released from the hospital. It was pure chance the train was passing through Salisbury, else he would have had to thumb it to London."   
  
"Chance? More like the Gods are arranging everything," Rick observed. The fire crackled as Alex's laughter rang out from upstairs. Shortly afterwards, a loudly quacking Ducky flew into the kitchen, followed by a barking Khuta.   
  
"She's obedient, if anything," Jonathan drily observed, sipping more of his tea.   
  
"Khuta! You found Ducky as Ardeth ordered, now stop chasing Ducky," Evie commanded the retriever, who ignored Evie and continued to bark at Ducky, who had flown on top of the sideboard. "She's trying to retrieve him. It's her job," Evie told her smiling brother. "She doesn't try to hurt him."   
  
"Where did you find her?" Jonathan asked, taking a sip of his tea then picking up the cheese slice.   
  
"Down by the Docklands," Rick replied as he too sipped his tea.   
  
Jonathan nearly choked on his cheese. When he was able, he asked, "The Docklands? Do you remember the name or the house address?"   
  
"McClure. Why?"   
  
"Her name is Buttercup. Cuppy for short," Jonathan replied. "I accompanied David McClure to Ireland. He'll be glad to know he hasn't lost everyone. His parents are overseas and his sister died of a brain tumour in July."   
  
"Cuppy will be good news for him, then," Rick observed, a tone of sadness in his voice.   
  
"Cuppy! Stop that!" Evie ordered, and for the first time in weeks, the retriever came over and sat down in front of Evie. "Guess you didn't recognize your name had been temporarily changed, did you Cuppy?" Evie asked the dog. Cuppy barked in response.   
  
"She did respond to Ardeth," Jonathan commented.   
  
"We did need to call her something, instead of just 'here, doggy'," Rick said, reaching over to pet Cuppy.   
  
"She's barely left his side since we found her in the rubble of the McClure's home," Evie stated.   
  
"Here, Cuppy! Catch!" Jonathan said, flicking a small piece of the cheese into the air. Cuppy caught it in her mouth and wolfed the cheese down. She barked happily. "Good girl! Did you know I found David for you, Cuppy? Would you like me to take you to see David?" he asked the dog, who barked again, then came over and lay down at Jonathan's feet.   
  
"Guess she would," Jonathan next commented, petting Cuppy then sitting back and sipped his tea.   
  
Evie and Rick followed suit, and the three waited uneasily by the fireplace for the inevitable air raid sirens. And today, the 29th of October, was destined to be the last day of intense bombings. 


	22. Chapter Twenty One

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE  
  
October 31, 1940, London, top of Shooters Hill (entryway to and on the outskirts of London) and the Brits note the day is overcast and wet...  
  
  
"Luftwaffe airplanes have been spotted over Kent!" Alex cried out as he used a pair of binoculars to scan the horizon. "One, two, five, eight, fifteen! Fifteen bombers in wing tip to wing tip formation," he confirmed, lowering the binoculars a moment in order to look at Ardeth before raising the binoculars again.   
  
Alex gasped, and said, "No! There's more. Nine...uhm, fifteen, thirty, no, forty, forty five, sixty, seventy. There's seventy? Seventy...seventy biplanes? Dad! Seventy biplanes!"   
  
"Biplanes?" a surprised Rick and Jonathan asked in unison.   
  
"Biplanes," Alex confirmed. "Painted pale green and bright blue. Looks like they're from the first war," Alex said as Ardeth's voice called,   
  
"Now." Ardeth commanded and Martin, though his eyes were closed and his brow furrowed from concentration, nodded and deepened his trance.   
  
An eerie silence had fallen over London in the past twenty four hours as the wet weather cleared the smoke trails from the burnt-out skyline of London. Yesterday, the 30th, had dawned wet and darkly cloudy, and there had been virtually nil bombings by the Luftwaffe.   
  
Today, Londoners had been hopeful another day would pass without bombings, for the bombings two days earlier had been intense and the stress was eating away at London's resolve.   
  
But Hitler, it appeared had something else in mind.   
  
"Pale green and bright blue biplanes?" Evie asked her son, coming up behind him and placing her hand on his shoulder.   
  
"Uh-huh," he replied, still looking through the binoculars.   
  
"Hitler must have teamed up with Mussolini. That's the Regia Aeronautica heading towards us. Guess they wanted a piece of the action," she commented sarcastically.   
  
"Do you think Hitler's too much of a coward to send his planes and lose more men and so he sent Mussolini's men?" Alex questioned his mother.   
  
"Possibly," she replied. "That might explain the Regia's belated appearance over London."   
  
Despite their preoccupation with their task, the small group men on the hill--plus Evie and Cuppy, the lone females--could see the citizens of London looking towards the sky as planespotters located on London's remaining high points called out, "Luftwaffe--no! That's the Regia Aeronautica--spotted! Fifteen bombers and seventy biplanes headed to London from Kent!"   
  
Relays had been set up to carry the message from the planespotters. Soon, the remaining streets of London were filled with echoes of "Fifteen bombers and seventy biplanes headed towards London!"   
  
"The Spell of Osiris has been incanted by Taita," Thoth's voice now boomed out over the small group of people huddled together on top of Shooters Hill. Evie and Alex had frozen in time, another question showing on Alex's lips but unasked.   
  
Jonathan couldn't figure out if the sheen on Martin's face was sweat or rain or a mixture of the two. Martin's brow was furrowed deeper and Jonathan thought Martin's skull would crack as Martin concentrated deeply to maintain the link with the Crossroads of Time--and Taita.   
  
"Ardeth Bey, if you and your companions will stand as the shadow of the pyramid around the Keeper and raise the links of the Bracelet towards the sky, you will then watch when Seth's former Chosen One screams as he sees the beginning of the end for the Third Reich," Thoth continued.   
  
Ardeth and Jonathan stood next to each other yet stood three yards apart. Rick formed the top of the pyramid around Martin. Each man raised his link of the Bracelet of Lostris towards the sky.   
  
A blinding flash of golden light shot forth from the links of the Bracelet and headed towards the sky in a small whirlwind and hovered over the destroyed city, growing larger and rotating faster with each clockwise rotation as the power of every living thing on earth, and the power of the Gods themselves was amassed in the swirling golden light.   
  
Spotters Hill and the small group of people were flooded with the warmth and they involuntarily gasped.   
  
In the light, four figures stepped forward. As they came closer, the three men standing in a pyramid shape on Spotters Hill could see the first figure was a handsome, tall man with reddish gold hair and kohled, sky blue eyes dressed in a loincloth. Hanging around his neck was the thick Gold of Praise.   
  
Walking next to this first figure was a slender, raven haired, green eyed woman who rivalled Nefertiti's beauty. In addition to full Egyptian makeup, she was wearing a feathery light linen shift dress dyed an unusual pale blue and she was holding the hand of another handsome man with flaming red hair and kohled blue eyes dressed in a white linen loincloth.   
  
The fourth figure was taller than the other three by three inches and his stunning physical beauty was enhanced by the Double Crown of Egypt upon his brow. Kohled dark green eyes smiled at the four men and his eyes proclaimed him the woman's son.   
  
Ardeth was the first to speak. "Taita. Queen Lostris. Tanus and the Pharaoh Tamose, former Prince of Thebes."   
  
"Greetings, Commander! I see you know your history," Tamose spoke. "Taita was indeed clever when constructing the Bracelet and Martin was just as clever in figuring out his puzzle. Even Thoth and Isis were impressed when Taita told them he devised a spell which required the speaker to jump through several hurdles before gaining access to the words of the Spell of Osiris."   
  
"A gateway," Queen Lostris put in, and taking Taita's hand, she looked up at him with her dark green eyes. "He constructed a gateway."   
  
"The most powerful words in Egyptian magic needed a protective gateway. Taita, your puzzle was most elaborate. First in writing the opening spell using a dead language, and then requiring the power of the pyramids. But in order to gain access to the opening spell, the Bracelet had to be broken into three parts. Clever," Ardeth replied as his eyes grew accustomed to the golden light.   
  
"Even Evie had trouble deciphering the language," Rick told Taita, looking at Evie and Alex. They appeared frozen in time, Evie's hand on Alex's shoulder and the binoculars still raised to Alex's eyes as mother and son stood on Shooters Hill overlooking London.   
  
Taita inclined his head towards Ardeth and Rick and replied, "Circles within circles. Such was my life, and the lives of those in Egypt during Queen Lostris's time. So I constructed the puzzle in circles. Still, had the Bracelet not been thrown against the floor, you would not have been able to break open the Bracelet for the first time."   
  
"Gemstones and metals are mined from stone, and only against stone shall their souls be freed," Jonathan intoned, then looked around in surprise. "Where did that come from?" he asked Taita, who laughed.   
  
"My friend, it seems you have had a former life you don't know about! One of the royal jewelers went by the name of Re-Habeb and he used to say that phrase when I was a young man learning how to carve a lapis lazuli pendant. Before using any gemstone or precious metal, he tapped the specimen three times against a white limestone Aten disk. His words are what gave me the idea for the puzzle."   
  
Ardeth's eyes were adjusting, and Ardeth saw the shadowy figures growing larger--and he realized these were the souls of those living in the Afterlife. Two of the smaller shadows broke off from a large group and started to run towards Ardeth.   
  
"There are times when I regret writing down the Spell in the my Book. Many were the times a power hungry Egyptian tried to use the Spell to gain material wealth," Thoth now commented.   
  
Taita completed Thoth's statement, "And many were the times they received sorrow instead of the hoped-for wealth."   
  
"Much like a story we read today, called The Monkey's Paw. In that tale, a dried monkey's hand will grant the owner three wishes. But the wishes never turn out as the wishers quite imagined, and disastrous results entailed," Jonathan commented as he watched the swirling golden light cover the remains of the London skyline from horizon to horizon, then start growing past the edges of London, rotating faster as more shadows joined the growing crowd.   
  
"That indeed sounds like our myth about the Book of Thoth! Always be careful of what you wish for, for you just might get your wish in a form you never expected," Taita and Thoth both replied. The two men, one the creator of magic and the other, a master magician, looked at each other and smiled.   
  
"I do have a question," Rick said, looking worried. "If the spell uses the power of every living thing, will Hitler and his minions be included in that?"   
  
Thoth shook his head, then smoothed his linen loincloth. "The spell weeds out those living beings with evil residing in their hearts. When I wrote the spell, I enlisted Ma'at to weigh the souls against the feather as the spell was being incanted."   
  
"Mixing evil with good is never a good idea," Taita now said. "Another protective element," he grinned at Thoth, who smiled back.   
  
"Whew!" Jonathan now said. "Now, where do the nasty souls go while the spell is activated?"   
  
Thoth laughed. "They visit the Underworld and see their own deaths and transformation into demons."   
  
"Ardeth Bey! Ardeth Bey!" a four year old girl with blonde hair and blue eyes shouted as she and a six year old boy, who was a carbon copy of his sister, ran up to him.   
  
"Hildred! Ewan!" Ardeth greeted them. His tone was sad, and somewhat hollow. "I am sorry I did not arrive sooner."   
  
"We were already dead by the time you heard our mummy scream. She'd been lying on the banks of the Thames, dazed from her head wound and she wasn't able to think for a few minutes." Ewan told Ardeth.   
  
"But we were already dead," Hildred told Ardeth again. "We died a few minutes after the auto fell into the water. Mummy wouldn't have been able to save us even if her head hadn't been hurt."   
  
"It was very quick," Ewan repeated, knowing that Ardeth was feeling responsible for not arriving in time to save him and his sister. "Our deaths, I mean. We didn't feel anything except cold."   
  
"The water was too cold," Hildred piped up. "The auto slid on some ice. But we're warm now."   
  
"We wanted to thank you for saving our mummy. Had you not arrived, she too would have died from being in the cold water too long, and our unborn brother would be here with us," Ewan said. "We watched you try to save us."   
  
For a long moment, Ardeth didn't know how to reply. "Your mum wanted you to live, as did I. But you are welcome. I did what was necessary." Ardeth wasn't sure if those words were appropriate. But the children seemed happy with his response, for they hugged him.   
  
When Ardeth hugged them back, he discovered that he had become a shadow of himself, and that he could watch his body holding up to the sky his link of the Bracelet of Lostris.   
  
Looking around, he saw that Evie, Alex, Jonathan, Rick, Martin and even Cuppy were also shadows of themselves and each was looking around in surprise and asking questions of each other.   
  
"It's only temporary. Your spirit is being amassed for the Bracelet. Just a moment longer, then the bombers will be thrown back to Berlin, even though they are Mussolini's," Tanus told Ardeth as a female voice called,   
  
"Hildred! Ewan! Come! We need your spirits to use in the power of the Bracelet so that nasty man will stop bombing London!"   
  
"Coming, grandmum! Thank you again, Ardeth!" both of the children said before disentangling themselves from Ardeth's embrace and ran to join the large group of people gathering in the Afterlife.   
  
Two more shadows detached themselves from the huge crowd and stepped closer to Evie and Jonathan. Even without the pith helmets, trousers and boots, Ardeth would have recognized the couple in a heartbeat, for they looked enough like Jonathan and Evie for Ardeth to realize the older couple were their parents.   
  
"Mum! Dad!" both Jonathan and Evie cried as they ran forward like young children to first hug and then join their parents in the large crowd, Alex and Rick trailing along. Cuppy was at a loss as to with whom she was to remain. She finally settled down near Ardeth's feet and barked as other shadows started appearing.   
  
"Watch!" a deep voice boomed out over the massed people. "I am Osiris and now London shall be relieved of the daily bombings!"   
  
Ardeth looked down and saw the swirling golden light covering the entire sky from horizon to horizon.   
  
The fifteen bomber planes and seventy biplanes were now being tumbled nose over tail towards Berlin where the planes were being turned upside down, their pilots being violently shaken out of the planes. Once the pilots were out, the planes reared up, then hurtled towards the ground.   
  
Upon impact, large belches of thick black smoke filled the air and Berliners ran for cover, trying to cover their noses but choking in the thick black smoke.   
  
Thoth now addressed the massed crowd. "You will not remember this event," he said as the golden light began to disperse and the crowds thinned. In a heartbeat, only a few souls remained in the fading golden light.   
  
Thoth turned to Ardeth. "Except for you and Martin. Your next task is to place the Bracelet under guard," Ardeth nodded as he watched Evie, Alex, Rick, Jonathan and even Cuppy regain solid form.   
  
"I am a guardian of the City of Hamunaptra," he told Thoth. "My people have guarded against evil for over three thousand years."   
  
"Then you know what will be required," Thoth stated and Ardeth nodded and the Afterlife began to fade.   
  
As he slowly regained his own body, Ardeth heard Thoth tell Taita, "Make sure Martin and Ardeth know where to safeguard the Bracelet."   
  
"I will do as you command," Taita's voice echoed in Ardeth's ears.   
  
  
  
---------------------  
  
A few minutes later...   
  
"Where did the bombers go?" Alex asked, as he peered through the binoculars. "Mum? Dad? Didn't I just say there were fifteen bombers and seventy biplanes heading towards London?"   
  
"Yes, you said the Regia Aeronautica were coming. Where did they go? I know they were just here for the bombers seemed to be heading straight towards us. I thought I could see the whites of their eyes."   
  
Rick blinked his eyes and lowered his hand. The electrum link he held in his hand glowed faintly, then winked out. "Yes. I heard you say that, Alex. They dropped only a few bombs when they disappeared over Ramsgate."   
  
Faint voices were heard from the planespotters.   
  
  
"Hey! Where did the Regia go?"   
"The Regia squadron just disappeared from the sky! One second they were there and the next, blam! Gone!"   
  
"I they disappeared over Ramsgate. Not many bombs were dropped."  
  
  
Other faint voices echoed the words of the planespotters and Londoners came outside, looking at the horizon.   
  
  
Jonathan and Ardeth lowered their hands and each man handed his electrum link to Ardeth, who put the Bracelet back together, then placed the Bracelet in the leather pouch he carried.   
  
Martin now blinked then wiped his brow. "Did we do it?"   
  
Ardeth replied, "Yes. Look. There are no smoke trails today."   
  
Martin smiled. "That took a lot of effort but the results were worth it, don't you think?"   
  
"Gemstones and metals are mined from stone, and only against stone shall their souls be freed" Jonathan said, then looked surprised. "I think I've said that before but I can't be sure," he finished as the four men, followed by Cuppy at Ardeth's heels, walked over to where Evie and Alex were watching as Londoners came outside, looking up at the sky.   
  
The only smoke visible was the smoke rising in wavering columns from the still-burning sections of London. There were no smoke trails in the sky from RAF fighters chasing Luftwaffe or Regia Aeronautica bombers.   
  
Another eerie calm filled the city: the sound of silence stretched for a minute, then two, then five and finally the sound of silence filled the city for an hour and still the six mortals and one canine stood, along with dozens of Londoners, and watched the horizon.   
  
After the sun set, and neither the Luftwaffe nor the Regia had re-appeared, Evie put her arm around her son and said, "Come, let's go home." Rick leaned down and kissed his wife as Evie and Alex started walking down Shooters Hill.   
  
Rick, Jonathan, Martin and Ardeth started to follow, but the figure of a man rose in front of them.   
  
"Watch," Taita told the four men before disappearing into a shimmer. And the four men watched the window which appeared. 


	23. Chapter Twenty Two

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO  
  
SS Headquarters, Berlin, October 31, 1940....  
  
Adolf Hitler paced the mahogany panelled room. "And just what do we do? What do we do?" he repeated as he shook his fist at the window. The window, believing itself to be a crystal ball, was showing Hitler and his top officer what was happening around Berlin as dozens of Mussolini's planes fell from the sky.   
  
"A decisive blow, Himmler. We used Mussolini's planes and even they were repelled by that blasted cloud cover that's been over London for the last three days. It almost appeared as if...it were alive," Schnell stated plainly as the smoke from the downed planes filled the air over Berlin. Berliners were choking and holding their noses as they ran to get away from the smoke.   
  
"Don't tell me this is a decisive blow! We can not let a little city like London defeat the Third Reich!" Hitler shouted and shook his fist at the window again.   
  
"I think we are merely 'distracted' for a while," Schnell responded. "We can say the lessening daylight in England caused our retreat from daily bombing."   
  
Hitler stopped looking at the window and turned to Schnell. "And what do we say when we continue to bomb London by night?"   
  
"We lie," Schnell replied curtly.   
  
"We shall have to do just that," Hitler said, turning back to the scenes showing through the window. Just outside of Berlin, a bright blue biplane was suspended upside down in the air, its pilot were being shaken out of the plane. "London has not defeated us! But, Schnell, there is someone we can defeat!"   
  
Schnell looked skeptical. "Himmler, who is this someone? We've got most of Europe and next we tackle North Africa."   
  
"Russia."   
  
"But we signed a non-aggression pact fourteen months ago!"   
  
"If I can't have London, then I'll have Russia."   
  
Schnell stroked his chin as the scene in the window showed another biplane, this one pale green in color, being relieved of its pilot; this plane was just outside SS Headquarters. "Then Russia it is. We will start planning our attack of Russia tonight."   
  
"Good. Plan for a June assault. It will take time to get the regiments acclimated to fighting our former ally. Dismissed," Hitler said as Schnell saluted him. "And Schnell! No more German casualties in London today! Call off the daily assault," Hitler growled. "We will need to start stockpiling our supplies for the assault on Russia."   
  
"Sir! Yes, sir!" Schnell responded as he left the room.   
  
Hitler turned to growl again at the scenes in the window. The tall dark haired man with the tattoos on his face stared intently at Hitler and Hitler felt the first tendrils of fear in his soul.   
  
"I am not afraid of you!" he shouted defiantly to the man in the window.   
  
"But you are afraid, Adolf, and Ardeth Bey shall repel your forces in Tunisia. He will be part of your death, little man," a female voice told Hitler as the window continued to show various parts of Berlin and the downed planes still belching smoke where they had crashed to the ground.   
  
"Hitler! Heed my mother's words, and mark my own words: you will not succeed with the   
Third Reich. Do you wish to know how you die?" Seth's voice boomed in the mahogany   
panelled room. "I'll show you anyways!"   
  
And the scene in the window now showed Hitler, his face deathly white, lying sprawled on top of a bed in an underground bunker.   
  
The scene was frozen in the window as Seth continued addressing Hitler, "You call your underground hideout a bunker, but its true name is a prison cell. And there, imprisoned by your own hand, you will lie dead as the Allies march to Berlin and liberate the people whom you imprisoned in the concentration camps. Yes, Hitler, I discovered your treachery when the souls of the people you mass slaughtered in the concentration camps came to me, and pleaded with me to help their survivors escape your evil."   
  
"Oh, the irony! So obvious is the fact the Third Reich will crumble without your leadership that you will take your own life, a hypocritical and cowardly act in light of fact you designed your Third Reich to last a thousand years. What's the matter, Hitler? Too afraid to face the music? You don't trust anyone in the Third Reich to provide you asylum as the Allies march towards Berlin?"   
  
Hitler shook his fist in rage at the scenes and stamped his feet, shouting obscenities.   
  
And in the window's reflection, he saw himself, he saw Ardeth motion to his companions and Hitler saw the four men smile at the Third Reich's leader throwing quite the temper tantrum.   
  
  
  
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Top of Shooters Hill, October 31, 1940  
  
  
"Hitler is quite the little child, eh?" Rick asked as the four men watched Hitler throwing a temper tantrum.   
  
"A baby really," Jonathan commented. "Even the darkest deeds of Seth do not compare to Hitler's evil. And Seth did not know all that Hitler is doing in Germany."   
  
"Someone, or something, unleashed an unspeakable evil on earth," Martin commented and Ardeth nodded.   
  
"He will die as Seth said, but not before he causes the deaths of millions," Ardeth said sadly.   
  
As Hitler's image faded out, Rick said, "Martin? Could the Bracelet cause someone to remain invisible long enough to kidnap Hitler?"   
  
"Someone could try," Martin replied as Evie and Alex came up Shooter's Hill to where the four men stood.   
  
"Is it over? Is it really over?" Alex inquired of Ardeth, his voice full of hope.   
  
"For the time being. Hitler is evil and I think he will continue to bomb London and the surrounding countryside on an intermittent basis," he told the youngster, who, in response, hugged him.   
  
Ardeth could not quite hide his smile as he hugged the youngster back.   
  
"I think I could live with that, intermittently, though I'd prefer no bombings at all," Evie said, looking over the devastation fron the top of Shooters Hill. The citizens of London were out on what remained of the streets, looking up at the sky clear of the smoke trails from RAF fighters and Messerschmidt bombers. They were clearly confused but quickly smiles came over their faces.   
  
Londoners were pointing at the sky, and nudging each other. A soft golden light settled down over London and its inhabitants.   
  
  
  
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Nighttime, October 31, Ardeth is standing on a hilltop in the grounds of the Carnahan O'Connell estate   
  
  
  
"You have done well, my earthly son," Nuit told Ardeth as she blew a kiss of wind upon his brow.   
  
"Your task has been hard, Mother," he replied, "but tasks performed for the Gods are never easy."   
  
"Your words echo those uttered by the Great Imhotep thousands of years ago. But you have completed your current task," she responded and Ardeth knew there would be more tasks ahead of him.   
  
Strangely, he found he didn't mind the upcoming tasks. He had found an inner strength which he didn't know he possessed. The accumulated training of his people from the last three thousand years protecting the city of Hamunaptra (and what the city contained) didn't measure up to the emotions he now experienced as he looked out over the now-quiet city of London.   
  
He knew the upcoming nights would be tough for Londoners--when the Luftwaffe would appear on the horizon in pitch dark.   
  
But London would never fall and the Third Reich would eventually crumble because London would still stand majestic, if burnt-out, and her skyline would rise again.   
  
Nuit echoed his thoughts. "London will never fall, thanks to you and Martin. Had not Martin figured out Taita's clever puzzle of the Bracelet, the city would have fallen next week when London was to have been flooded. The Gods of Egypt give their eternal thanks to you, Ardeth Bey."   
  
"The Gods are welcomed, Mother," Ardeth replied as the golden light of Nuit faded to be replaced by a tall flame-haired blue eyed man dressed in long flowing golden robes. His face was strong, the chin square, the nose almost aquiline.   
  
"Greetings, Ardeth Bey. I am Seth. I wish to apologize to you. Had I known of Hitler's plan to destroy the Afterlife of Egypt, and known about his concentration camps, I would have helped you in your journey to London instead of impeding it as I did."   
  
Ardeth was quiet a moment, then replied. "It was an arduous task. But I accept your apology."   
  
Seth continued. "It was not my idea to create Hitler. I had intended to use him for my instrument, but I failed to use a protective spell. The Gods believe he was birthed by Evil itself--an evil born of another mythology. Maybe that is why he went out of control."   
  
"A wayward spell on a ushabti," Ardeth observed.   
  
"That is what Imhotep noted as well," Seth told Ardeth, who raised his eyebrows. "Things get around in the Underworld."   
  
"So I noticed," Ardeth replied. "I would like to know how you would have flooded London."   
  
"Ah," Seth said and hung his head a moment. He then raised his head and looked in Ardeth's eyes. "My father could explain this better, as geology is more his taste. The Thames' estuary is unique, for the sea waters at high tide reverse the flow of the river. The waters flow quite a distance upstream. I would have helped the high tide to innundate London."   
  
"I trust your father was horrified when you told him?" Ardeth asked.   
  
Seth nodded his head. "If you have need of help in returning to Egypt, or to London, quickly, merely ask. My mother and I will assist you--safely, this time. The Gods, including myself, are trying to find a way to stop Hitler once and for all," Seth said. "Again, I extend my apologies. Oh, one other thing," Seth said and Ardeth raised both his eyebrows.   
  
"It was not my doing which caused the death by drowning of Hildred and Ewan. I checked with the other Gods to see if anything could have been done to prevent their deaths. There was nothing to be done."   
  
Ardeth nodded as the image of Seth faded out. For a moment, Ardeth saw his remote ancestors Kysen, Khuta and Khuta's infant son. The relatives gazed at each other for a moment, and Ardeth thought how much he resembled Khuta, then the overcast night sky of London was visible to Ardeth's dark eyes.   
  
He turned and walked down the hilltop towards the O'Connell manor house, his black robes swinging around his ankles. 


	24. EPILOGUE & historical note

EPILOGUE   
  
  
Irish countryside, on a rural lane leading to a small village, middle of November....  
  
  
"And Cuppy was reunited with David? I know he missed her," Ian asked Jonathan as they walked by one of Ireland's dolmens and virtually every county in Ireland claimed a dolmen in residence.   
  
"Yes. Ardeth had renamed her Khuta while she was in his care but she's home with David."   
  
"Good. Cuppy's a farm dog anyways," Ian said, then inquired, "Did the daily bombing really stop?"   
Jonathan smiled down at Ian. The two were wearing matching thick tweed coats, and balaclavas, for the day was rather chilly. "Yes. Hitler has been beaten back to Berlin, although he still bombs London occasionally. It's as if he's sparring with us," Jonathan replied.   
  
"But the bombs are not falling every day?"   
  
"No, not every day."   
  
"And it was an Egyptian Bracelet--the Bracelet of Lostris--which King Arthur brought from Egypt, with magic spells that expelled the Luftwaffe?"   
  
Jonathan laughed. "Yes. Ardeth brought the Bracelet safely to London. There are a lot of things Egyptian which you will learn about from your Aunt Evie."   
  
"Cool! I like magic. And I like King Arthur. I want to meet him."   
  
"So, you've heard the modern legend of King Arthur have you?"   
  
"Oh yes! How he was washed up on Wolf Rock and traveled on horseback through the Cornish countryside, on his way to liberate London from the daily bombings," Ian replied. "Irene's made up a play about King Arthur. It's quite good, you know."   
  
"I shall have to see this play," Jonathan observed. "And write and tell Ardeth about it."   
  
"We're putting on the play tomorrow."   
  
"I look forward to it."   
  
"Irene's also writing about the Four Children of Lir."   
  
"Who were they?"   
  
"They were transformed into swans and for a thousand years, they were doomed to swim the seas between Scotland and the northern coast of Ireland."   
  
"Is that going to be a play?"   
  
"Nuh-uh. A short story."   
  
"I like to read."   
  
"So do I. You know what else I like?"   
  
"No, what?"   
  
"I like the idea of Aunt Evie. I've never had an aunt before. What's an aunt like?"   
  
"Oh, most aunts like to do things, read and cook and all. Evie likes languages, and telling stories from her life as Neferteri."   
  
"I want a past life too. And I want to have Egyptian adventures like Alex!"   
  
"Perhaps we can discover if you've lived before, but I'll pass on Egyptian adventures like Alex experienced. However, you will be able to meet Ardeth," Jonathan suggested, smiling as Ian did a short skip down the deserted rural lane.   
  
In the far distance ahead, the ruins of a castle tower rose up from the hilly landscape, but the two member family was heading towards the straidbaile--a village.   
  
"I would like that very much, to meet him. And going to Egypt. I've never had a past life before. I've not even had a sibling before."   
  
"Cousin, really."   
  
"No cousins either. I've been an orphan as long as I can remember," Ian said, stopping to look up at Jonathan.   
  
"You're not an orphan any longer. You're my son, Ian."   
  
"Ian M. Carnahan."   
  
"You don't want your own surname?" Jonathan asked, surprised but deeply pleased.   
  
"Oh, I'll keep it as my middle name, but I want the papers to reflect your surname, dad," Ian said taking Jonathan's hand and leading him down the rural lane. One of Ireland's standing stones rose up alongside the lane and beside the stone, a stray member of the county's ruminant population stood quiet guard, occasionally flicking its tail at an unseen irritant.   
  
Jonathan was smiling widely. Although the sky was overcast with thick grey clouds, both Ian and Jonathan felt the sun was shining on their souls once again.   
  
"Ian M. Carnahan," Ian said, then rolled the Ian and the 'm' together, and blurring the words a bit--just enough to corrupt the sounds ever so slightly, and he said, "I'm a Carnahan, now," he said, smiling.   
  
Jonathan couldn't help but smiling as well. "Yes, you're a Carnahan. I see English is alive and changing even today," noting Ian's slight corruption of English.   
  
Ian just smiled and said again, "I'm an Carnahan" as the two walked through the Irish countryside towards the tiny picturesque village where Ian and Jonathan were going to take tea.   
  
  
  
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Near the End of the Age of Taurus, royal felucca pleasure barge sailing on the Nile near Thebes, midday...   
  
  
Ra seemed to shimmer, and rays of golden light spread out from the golden disk. A Kushite rower was the first to see the phenomenon in the sky and he called out, "Look! Ra is greeting us! We are blessed!" Other rowers stopped and looked up at Ra.   
  
Imhotep looked up from the scroll he was reading and Pharoah Djoser sat up on the throne placed on a platform in the middle of the royal water craft and watched Ra's light drift down to settle over all of Egypt. Her citizens stopped their activities to watch Ra shimmer.   
  
A deep male voice sounded over Egypt:   
  
  
"This Very Egypt of our is safe from a future pestilence. The Gods wish to bestow their thanks to the High Priest of Ptah Imhotep for his assistance to us in a future time. He will be pleased to know the Restorer of Ma'at has once again prevented the downfall of this Very Egypt of ours."   
  
  
A great cheer rose from Egypt's citizens as they listened to the words of Ra.   
  
Pharaoh Djoser smiled. "I think a Festival of Bastet is in order. Don't you agree, Imhotep?"   
  
Imhotep returned the smile. Bastet was a popular Goddess and her festivals were celebrated with much wine drinking, dancing and singing. "Yes, a Festival of Bastet is in order, as this Very Egypt of ours is safe for the future."   
  
"Scribes! Make a royal order and send the fastest messengers to tell all Egypt that a Festival of Bastet is to be held for ten days, starting this very day! Citizens! Spread the word as well!" Pharaoh Djoser told the smiling citizens of Egypt who were on the feluccas nearest the royal barges.   
  
Scribes hurried to make up the royal orders as the Egyptians on the feluccas nearest the royal barges hurried back to their villages to spread the merry word. The royal order was already making its way up the Nile, for cheers from feluccas furthest from the royal barges were heard.   
  
Djoser looked at Imhotep. "You have done well, Imhotep."   
  
Imhotep inclined his head. "Thank you, but it is the Restorer of Ma'at who did most of the hard work. It is he who should be thanked."   
  
"Who is the Restorer of Ma'at?" Djoser wanted to know, then held up his hand. "If the Gods of Egypt gave you that information, Ammit would eat your heart if you revealed that information to anyone. I will find out in the Afterlife."   
  
"I am satisfied knowing this Very Egypt of ours is safe, safe for now, and safe for the future."   
  
"That is enough for me as well. Now, shall we disembark at Thebes to officiate at the beginning of the Festival?"   
  
"As you wish, my Pharaoh," Imhotep replied, as the city of Thebes drew closer. Thebans were already dancing in the streets, singing as a bull--the Apis bull--was being led by ropes.   
  
"A further blessing!" Djoser noted happily as he accepted a faience cup of wine. "Apis has been found! A dual Festival of Bastet and an Apis celebration is history in the making, don't you agree?"   
  
Imhotep nodded as he closed his eyes and offered silent thanks to Kysen, Khuta and Ardeth. The royal barge sailed closer to Thebes and the cheering intensified.   
  
  
  
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Afterlife, Sometime in Eternity (but scuttlebutt sets the date in the middle of November, 1940)...  
  
  
"Well, Taita was certainly an excellent student of magic," Thoth said to the assembled Gods and demons of the Underworld. There had been general celebrating, with much wine and sweets imbibed by the Gods, since the massed power of all living beings had been channelled by the Bracelet and their massed power had pushed Seth's former Chosen One back to his homeland for the time being.   
  
London was safe from downfall and thus Hitler would not get his chance to destroy the Egyptian afterlife, although the Gods knew the city of London would be bombed from time to time in the coming months.   
  
"Taita works magic better than Isis," Nepthys observed, always ready to needle her sister. She herself had married Seth while Isis had married Osiris.   
  
"Ha! There is no one better at working magic than me!" Isis retorted, but smiled anyways. "Well, no other God can use magic like I can, except for Thoth. Taita was mortal and that doesn't count," she finished haughtily.   
  
"Thank you Isis for the compliment," Thoth said and Isis flashed him a smile.   
  
"We must call Lostris and Taita before us to commend them," Osiris told the assembled Gods. There was general agreement amongst the assembled Gods. The demons cheered before dispersing to continue their merriment in another part of the Underworld.   
  
"What about Imhotep?" Bastet wanted to know once the demons had gone. She smoothed the fur on her face. Her green eyes glowed with happiness at the success of the Bracelet of Lostris.   
  
Bastet had been rather taken with Osiris's High Priest and since he was the one who had interrogated Josef and learned of Hitler's dastardly plan against Egyptian afterlife, she wanted to make sure Imhotep received fair treatment.   
  
"For now, his soul will no longer be devoured by the demons," Osiris said. "Determining his final fate will take a little longer. But he will be free to move about the Underworld, and he will be allowed to see his parents and his offspring."   
  
"He has offspring?" Bes, the dwarf fertility god, asked, ever hopeful his image had been used in childbirth.   
  
Osiris nodded. "Yes. Imhotep fathered fifteen children, all of whom survived to adulthood, and whom he cared about greatly." Bes smiled widely and accepted congratulations from the other gods.   
  
"And Ancksunamun?" Horus asked and Osiris grimaced.   
  
"She betrayed him and I doubt Imhotep wants to see her. She is better left to wander the underworld as a lost soul," Osiris replied. "She has grown quite ugly, and is by far the nastiest looking demon in the Underworld," he added slyly.   
  
  
  
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Afterlife, Sometime in Eternity...   
  
"Queen Lostris and Taita, step forward!" Osiris ordered the two Egyptians.   
  
Obeying their command, the two stepped forward. Pharaoh Tamose, formerly Prince Memnon, grinned hugely, his dark green eyes sparkling.   
  
"Lostris, it was you who protected the Double Crown of Egypt by exiling the Royal family during the invasion of the enemies. A smart move, going south to Kush until the Prince came of age," Osiris said. Then he smiled mischievously. "And although the Gods know Tamose is the son of Tanus and yourself, he was accepted as the God-King of Egypt by one of our own, Pharaoh Mamose."   
  
"Tanus is my father?" Tamose asked, surprised, and Lostris turned, smiled and nodded. Tanus put his arm around Tamose's shoulders.   
  
"And Taita, although you were educated by Egypt's traitor, you used your education well in protecting Egypt from future invasion."   
  
"Therefore," Osiris called in his deep throated voice. "Let it be known in the Afterlife and all the Underworld, that Queen Lostris and Taita have earned the 'Flies of Valor'," Osiris said and nodded to Isis and Nepthys, who placed Egypt's highest military honor around the necks of Lostris and Taita.   
  
Cheers went up from the assembled crowd of assorted Gods and Goddesses, deceased Egyptians, and more than a few demons from the Underworld, the High Priest of Osiris Imhotep among them.   
  
Pharaoh Mamose came up to Lostris. "My sister, from the moment I married you, I knew Tanus would father your child. I married you because of your intelligence and dedication towards preserving all things Egyptian."   
  
"Then you are not angry at me for deceiving you, my brother?" Lostris asked.   
  
Mamose shook his head. "It is the right of the Pharaoh to choose the next God-King, as did King Haremheb when he chose Rameses I to become Pharaoh. There was too much treachery loose and about in Egypt and I knew I needed someone pure of heart to bear Egypt's next Son."   
  
Mamose hugged her, then went to join the other Gods.   
  
Taita commented, "And I thought I had fooled him."   
  
"He noticed everything," Lostris replied. She was about to continue but Osiris' voice rang out again.   
  
"High Priest of Osiris Imhotep!" and Imhotep adjusted his golden robes, then stepped forward.   
  
"You have been a difficult case to resolve. But you provided the information which helped us save the city of London from downfall and thus prevented the destruction of the Afterlife of Egypt and the destruction of the Egyptian Gods. Service to Egypt is highly valued," Osiris told the assembled people.   
  
There were various cheers and shouts of congratulations directed at Imhotep. Osiris held up his hand for silence. When the crowd quieted, Osiris continued, "Therefore, it is the order of Osiris that you be allowed access to the Afterlife and the Gods are pleased to present you also with the 'Flies of Valor'," he told a stunned Imhotep as Bastet came forward and placed the shining gold 'Flies of Valor' around Imhotep's neck.   
  
Bastet kissed Imhotep's cheek and purred softly as she stepped back.   
  
And Imhotep's children and parents stepped forward to greet their astonished father and son.   
  
More cheers erupted from the assembled crowd.   
  
"Now! A Festival is in order! Bastet! This will be your festival, so let the merriment commence!" Osiris shouted gleefully as all of Egyptian afterlife erupted into song and dance.   
  
  
  
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The Grayson Pub, Land's End, middle of November, early afternoon...  
  
  
Martha was laughing. It felt good to laugh just to hear her own voice. Since September 7, she hadn't felt much like laughing. She laughed again and said, "Isn't is wonderful that the bombings have stopped for the moment?" she asked a customer, a seaman from Halifax, Canada.   
  
"King Arthur was the one who got the bad guys out of London! I just know he did!" David asserted to the seaman and to his mother.   
  
"King Arthur?" the seaman, Alan Hopkins asked. "How could King Arthur liberate London?"   
  
David pulled on Alan's hand. "If you'll sit down, I'll tell you!"   
  
"He's only four. He's just learned to tell a story," Martha told Alan.   
  
"It's no problem, ma'am. I like hearing stories," Alan replied as David pulled on Alan's hand. The two went over to a table, and Martha brought Alan a mug of tea, a glass of milk for David and a plate of biscuits for them both. David began to tell Alan about his encounter with King Arthur.   
  
"King Arthur was shipwrecked on Wolf Rock. It's waaay out there!" David pointed out to sea. "And the American seaman Thomas Wheaton and I sailed out to pick him up and when we got back, King Arthur borrowed our stallion and galloped towards London to free it from the bad guys! And he did this all in a week!" David finished triumphantly and Alan smiled at the innocent ability to telescope time. To be four again!   
  
But David wasn't done. "I drew pictures of King Arthur. Here, on the wall," he pointed and smiled hugely.   
  
Alan turned his head to look at the picture David was pointing out. It was remarkably well drawn and showed a dark haired man with intense eyes astride a magnificent stallion. On the man's back were two swords, crossed in an 'x' shape.   
  
Alan couldn't help but to feel safe looking at the picture David had drawn. The man's eyes told of an inner resolve and you knew that when he was around, he would protect you.   
  
"I'll draw you one, so you'll be protected by him," David said and Alan nodded absently.   
  
  
  
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Lizard Point, middle of November, early afternoon...  
  
  
  
Ida Dunham walked slowly along the South Cornwallian beach, occasionally smiling to herself. A gull landed on the sand a short distance in front of her and Ida stopped for a moment.   
  
"Did you hear, mister gull? King Arthur made it to London!"   
  
The gull flapped its wings. It had known King Arthur well before his arrival in London--for he had seen King Arthur on Wolf Rock and had woken him up from his long nap. The gull was a celebrity of sorts amongst the bird population of Cornwall, for not many birds had the chance to awaken King Arthur.   
  
Ida's heart was humming for in the last few weeks, there had been good news from both London and France: London was no longer being bombed daily (and nightly) and Ida's two sons had each written from France. Ida was to be a grandmother twice over and both babies were due with a month of each other.   
  
She'd decided she would go to Egypt as she'd dreamed, so she could write her grandchildren and tell them about her Egyptian adventures.   
  
  
  
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O'Connell bedroom, early afternoon on a mid-November day...  
  
  
"Mmmmmmm, now that satiated my hunger!" Rick told his wife as he ran his finger down her arm. She was curled into Rick's arms, the quilted down coverlet drawn up to her neck.   
  
She twisted her head around to see him a bit better. "Even more than a hot cup of steaming joe?" she asked mischievously, a gleam in her eye.   
  
Rick laughed, then considered the question seriously. "I would have to think about that."   
  
"Rick!" Evie said as she playfully poked Rick in the ribs with her elbow. "Surely I'm better than some cuppa joe!" she said indignantly. "Hmmpf!"   
  
"Then let me show you how good you are," Rick murmured.   
  
"Quuuuaaaaacckk!" Ducky said as he and a female duck flew past the surprised O'Connells and into their bathroom. The two ducks landed on the edge of the tub, then jumped in and splashed the water with their wings. "Quack!" Ducky told the two surprised humans when he realized they were watching him and his new mate.   
  
"Not again!" Evie moaned but Rick stopped her next words by kissing her mouth.   
  
  
  
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Red Cross station, outskirts of London (exact location to remain unrevealed, by order of the M5), early afternoon on a mid-November day...  
  
  
"You've got the lorries arranged?" Charlotte Myers asked, tucking her thick red hair into a bun and adjusting the pale blue siren suit she wore.   
  
Like other young London women, Charlotte was enthralled by the siren suits, which were made with oil-proof cloth. Siren suits also protected the clothes worn underneath them--a bonus during air raids with their insistent heed-me-now siren, although should the war drag on for years, Charlotte thought she just might get tired of the siren suits, which were patterned on pilot suits.   
  
The Canadian pilots called Charlotte's outfit a 'jumpsuit' but Charlotte preferred siren suit.   
  
And with a ladies non-wool dress costing seven ration coupons--a steep price considering the government issued a paltry sixty six clothing coupons per person, per year and Charlotte was sure the number of coupons would grow smaller should the war progress--London ladies thought a siren suit was a good investment.   
  
"Yes. They're to be heading off to our northern neighbor at daybreak tomorrow," Alex replied as he filed another home inventory sheet in the file cabinet.   
  
"Will you be going with the lorries?" she asked next.   
  
"You bet. I'll be meeting my uncle in our northern neighbor."   
  
"Watch out for the haggis," Charlotte playfully warned him, filing another home inventory sheet from the Watford section of London.   
  
"I've a question. What is haggis?" he asked her, filing an extensive inventory sheet for 10 Downing Street.   
  
Charlotte glanced at him. "Don't you know?" she asked, narrowing her pale grey eyes.   
  
Alex shook his head. "My uncle alluded to eating haggis in his letters but he never explained what the dish is," he replied. "My dad's American and mum's half-Egyptian."   
  
"Do you really want to know?" was Charlotte's next question.   
  
The tone of her voice caused Alex to look at her. "What do you mean, do I really want to know?"   
  
"Haggis is made, well, rather unusually," Charlotte explained. "Although visitors to Scotland rarely order the dish more than once."   
  
"How unusually?" Alex had stopped filing the home inventory sheets to look at Charlotte.   
  
"Well. It's made from sheep," Charlotte said.   
  
"Sheep isn't so bad," Alex said, turning back to his filing. "It's meat," then bit his tongue. He had been about to reveal he'd had chicken for dinner last night. Alex wasn't supposed to talk about the supplies Tallulah had stockpiled and he hoped Jonathan's letters weren't being opened before they arrived at the Carnahan O'Connell estate.   
  
"Sheep liver, sheep lungs and sheep heart mixed with oatmeal, suet, onions and seasonings. Then it's all mashed together, stuffed into the sheep's stomach, and cooked, rather like an oversize sausage ball," Charlotte said then carefully watched Alex to gauge his reaction.   
  
She herself relished a good bowl of haggis, having a maternal Scottish grandfather who had been a champion caber thrower in the Highland Games, not to mention he made the best haggis in all Scotland, and she was rather envious of Alex's forthcoming trip to Scotland.   
  
Alex paled a bit. "Uhm, liver, lungs and heart in the sheep's stomach?" he asked.   
  
"It's rather good."   
  
"I think I'll order what my uncle did: bangers and mash."   
  
Charlotte laughed then looked at Alex with appraising pale grey eyes. He was a bit young for her own twenty one but age was workable during war times. "Barring an air raid, do you want to get a cuppa joe? And if there are no bombs this evening, they're going to show a Bette Davis film, The Letter," she asked Alex, using the American term for coffee.   
  
Much to his surprise, Alex replied, "Yes. I'd like a cuppa joe and a film. I'd like that a lot!" as the two shared another laugh, then went back to their filing of the home inventory sheets for Operation Take Out.   
  
  
  
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Egyptian Airspace between Alexandria and Cairo, late November, 1940...  
  
  
The two pilots were trying to outdo each other, making their planes turn somersaults in the air, going up high, then dive bombing the earth and pulling up.   
  
Ardeth was in the rear seat of Martin's new plane. Izzy piloted the other plane and his whoops were audible to even Ardeth's plugged up ears, Martin flew the plane that high.   
  
He was also cold and his robes weren't warm enough.   
  
"Didn't you need to get to the Step Pyramid?" Martin called back. He'd recovered nicely from his bout with pneumonia and full health bloomed in his clean shaven cheeks.   
  
"That would be nice!" Ardeth called back as Martin went into another steep nosedive, racing Izzy towards the ground again.   
  
Ardeth was beginning to regret introducing Martin to Izzy, whom they had found in Alexandria, rummaging around in the markets there. With his love of belly dance, Izzy had found out important information about Rommel while dating a belly dancer.   
  
The belly dancer was now in jail--in Scotland so she wouldn't be able to provide information about Izzy to anyone who came to visit her.   
  
Izzy had been enchanted at the fact he was to be a spy for the British and he had been celebrating his first relay of information by visiting the Red Sea beach resorts. It was on his return to Alexandria when he'd run into Ardeth and Martin Wilkes. He'd listened as the two relayed their adventures in England and France.   
  
And in turn, Ardeth and Martin had listened as Izzy relayed his capture by enemy soldiers stationed in Cairo and how he'd planted scorpions in their bedding to allow him to escape.   
  
The wind now rushing past Ardeth's face plastered his beard in his eyes. "Martin! Did you get the instructions from Taita as to where to store the Bracelet?"   
  
"Yes!" Martin called back. "Isn't this fun?"   
  
"No!" Ardeth replied as the plane headed towards Imhotep's Step Pyramid. Ardeth clutched the Bracelet to his waist and hoped he wouldn't get airsick.   
  
  
  
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Historical note:  
  
October 29 (overcast & drizzly) was the last intense day of the daily bombings.   
  
October 30 (overcast & rain), there were virtuallly nil bombs dropped over London and the smoke trails began to clear over the burnt-out skyline.   
  
On Halloween, 1940, Mussolini apparently decided--rather belatedly--that he, too, wanted a piece of London, so he sent to London 15 bombers and a motley collection of 70 biplanes, colored pale green and bright blue and seemingly relics from the First War.   
  
Coming from the direction of Kent, the Regia Aeronautica flew over the soil of England, made a right turn and flew away over Ramsgate, where a scant handful of bombs were dropped before the tails of the Regia were seen heading towards the Channel.   
  
The weather conscious Brits noted the sky was overcast and the weather? Wet, very wet.   
  
Casualties for October 31, 1940: 0, however 13,000 were killed and nearly 20,000 were seriously injured during the month of October.   
  
The skies over London's skyline cleared of the smoke trails and Londoners reported an eerie feeling: the sound of silence.   
  
There were vague references to shorter hours of daylight and wet weather when the daily (though not the night attacks) bombings ended.   
  
  
  
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But we know better. 


End file.
